Of Blindness and Vision
by SavvyNBrash
Summary: A raiding accident leaves Jack Sparrow temporarily blind, and fevored with injury. It's up to William to play nurse-maid. Slash--eventually. (it was called to my attention that day 3 didnt load all the way--I fixed it!)
1. Default Chapter

Title: PROLOGUE: Of Blindness and Vision   
Author: Frost AND Kacey   
Rating: PG-13 (for sexual implications--eventually)  
Summary: Jack gets injured, and Will has to play nurse-maid. Or at least try.   
Disclaimer: Don't own it. But we do own this story. So take THAT.   
Archive: O_O Yes..! Tell us first, though.   
Authors notes: This is a response to the plot bunny illness challenge given by glitterundine@yahoo.com. It is affectionately called "Pity Jack Please Will". You'll see why.   
Uh, anyway, this is actually a part of our "Of…" series, which is ongoing and being spewed out in no particular order. Enjoy!   
Oh yeah. Jack is played by Frost, and Will by Kacey.

**---------------: **      The Independence was a notorious and recognized vessel. A long and thick bellied ship known not for it's strength, or speed, but highly coveted for it's merchandise: an ample burden of Caribbean Rum. Stacked barrels of the intoxicant filled every available space of the Independence's two layered, cargo hold, proving without doubt, to be a temptation for any pirate with an acquired taste for the drink. 

A man with an eye out for unlucky signals would've been hesitant to leave his quarters on a day like this. Ash fog lay it's dense blanket over the expanse of ocean in every direction, until the view of the water was swallowed up, and any passing ship appeared to be sailing white clouds instead of green sea. The Independence never saw the approaching shadow of a stealthy craft on their bow, until it was too late, and The Black Pearl was already on them. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Fire a few warning cannon shots, and then board this ship," Captain Jack Sparrow was running coolly around his ship, making sure all the crew was prepared for what promised to be a short and sweet battle. Over take the Independence, take the rum and whatever other profits there were to be had, and then get clear without any other problems. Simple. "Make it fast and they'll never know what was coming!" And they likely wouldn't. He un-holstered his own gun and then smiled a wicked smile for all of his crewmembers to see--enchanting charcoal eyes fierce --glittering with the excitement that was about to come. They always did that--this was the sort of thing he lived for, it made his heart beat faster-- his very life seem more worth living. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Amongst the anxious crew, there was but one unprepared for this siege. William Turner, a boy who's new life of piracy had developed him into a man, and a fine contribution to the black ship under Jack Sparrow's command. However, this new mission wasn't sitting well with Will, not because it was theft to plunder the rum shipment, but because of the ominous setting into which their mission was to take place. While within arm's reach of the scurvy Captain, Will got the hook of Jack's arm and reeled him to the side, out of hearing distance of the excited crew. "Jack. Are you quite -sure- of this?" His creased brow displayed an apprehension, and narrowed eyes translated to the Captain, that he wasn't confident at all. There was foreshadowing in this fog -- misfortune ahead. 

**- - - Jack - - -: **      "Oh, honestly, William..." The Captain raised his eyes skyward for a moment, and then with his free left hand--the right was still holding his pistol--he made a show of dusting off the ex-blacksmiths shoulders. "I'm very sure. You're worried about the weather," he interpreted--eyes drifting past Will to look out at the fog. "But that's what's going to make this more successful." He flitted a hand in front of the younger man for a moment, and then took a little breath--repeating something to him that he'd said not too many months before. "Tell me, have I -ever- given you a reason not to trust me?" The Captain pirate gave something of a sly smile, and then turned away before any more arguments could be heard. "Anchor now, men! Get the cannons ready!" He was off then--proving how much of a captain he really was--running back toward the cannoned side of the ship, even as the orders were being carried out. 

**- - - William - - -:**      "What if--," Turner was left arguing his point to no one but the retreating back side of his stubborn Captain. The low, imploded thunder of cannon fire quaked each plank of the deck and the stench of sulfur assaulted each unprepared nose. There was no more time to attempt halting the plunder, the battle had been triggered. Yet, Will still had that final choice to make. He drew the cutlass from his belt and propelled himself to the edge of the Pearl. Even if he disagreed with this mission, there was a loyalty to Jack that wouldn't allow the blacksmith to deny his Captain. In any way. 

The fog muffled each shouted outburst from surprised Independence crewmen. Pirates! Don't let- ! Fire at will! Bullet shards sparked in the blanket of cloud, which made it difficult to decipher where one ship ended and the other began. Two groups, traders and pirates, merged in hopes of conquering the other. It would be a battle without contest, the Black Pearl's crew out numbered that of the cargo vessel's by twice a count. But Will was not about to underestimate them yet. 

**- - - Jack - - -: **      Yes, this would be an easy battle indeed--Jack's mind frame was much different than Will's it seemed. He had already boarded the Independence--along with some few other crew members--and was firing away at the men who thought to oppose the crew of the 'Pearl. They stood no chance, really. Jacks eyes--one of his most defining features really, (lined with dark charcoal, they seemed precariously large making them even more enticing than they would be without)- glittered in mirth as he let out a shot, and dodged another bullet at the same time. "Surrender," he called out to the passengers of the Independence--his voice almost singsong. The fog didn't seem to be bothering him in the least--just as he'd told William it wouldn't! 

**- - - William - - -:**      But William was seeing things from a different angle than Jack himself. He had crossed over onto the second craft, with stealth, he had maneuvered his blade's tip under the chin of a man controlling the Cargo ship's helm. With no intention of actually murdering the innocent, Will used the blade only to support the Black Pearl's take over. That was until, his eyes sought Jack, prepared to find the glaze of triumph splashing over his Captain's features. But instead, Will's vision was filled by the ominous pistol he saw leveled at the back of Sparrow's head. The man aiming was encased in a gust of fog, and no one else seemed to be aware of his presence except for Turner. "No! Jack go!" 

**- - - Jack - - -: **      Jack's head turned swiftly to the side--but his eyes only found William to gaze upon--not something he was -terribly- interested in doing at the moment. He was busy trying to steal rum and profit--couldn't the boy just get it through his head that nothing was going to go wrong? It was just -too- easy for that. "What, Will?" he sighed in an aggravated way and moved to stride over to the boy--maybe he was having problems with his one captive. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Helm forgotten, Will's swift bounded leaps closed the distance between himself and the pistol. Will's thoughts consumed with a fear so profound he did not know such a terror could exist within him. Jack could not die. Not here. Not today. Not like this. Not over a few barrels of rum. In his peripheral vision he saw Jack swivel around, but William was looking straight at the gunner, for in that split second he might divert his attention, all could be lost. The Jack filled with life would be stripped of that existence for good. Saber connects to torso, sinks, and Will felt nothing of remorse, only a strength of a crushing wave, his world focused on the direct thrust of his arm, until his blade leapt free again on the other side of his enemy's ribs. The man aiming the pistol was dead before the muscles of his fingers spasmed, sparking the trigger and announcing to the entire ship with a crackling pop, that the bullet aimed at Jack Sparrow had been sent. 

**- - - Jack - - -: **      Seeing the encounter between Will and the pistoled man was enough to make Jack glad that William was a member of his crew--and he was about to tell him so--or something along those lines, anyway. But the gun still went off, and Jack Sparrow receives a full-on collision with the blast of two exploding gun powder kegs beside him. There is an agonizing flare of brimstone and sulfur, a deafening shrill crack of cinders and a black smoldering burst of smoke. How could anyone survive? When the combustion of ashes faded with the quick sweep of ocean wind. There was only one man down. Jack Sparrow. 


	2. Day One

Title: Of Blindness and Vision: Day One   
Author: Frost AND Kacey   
Rating: PG-13 (for language—for now.)  
Summary: Jack gets injured, and Will has to play nurse-maid. Or at least try.   
Disclaimer: Don't own it. But we do own this story. So take THAT.   
Archive: O_O Yes..! Tell us first, though.   
Authors notes: This is a response to the plot bunny illness challenge given by glitterundine@yahoo.com. It is affectionately called "Pity Jack Please Will". You'll see why.   
Uh, anyway, this is actually a part of our "Of…" series, which is ongoing and being spewed out in no particular order. Enjoy!   
Oh yeah. Jack is played by Frost, and Will by Kacey.

**- - - William - - -:**      When calm waves met and lapped together they produce a washed down, continual and connected rhythm, like a slow shushing breath. When these waves met the hull of a ship, wooden planks groaned to accompany the lulling rocking movement. These sounds were clear, and they filled the room with a complete resounding hum. The smell was familiar here, an aroma of salted spice, leather and linen. Where was that other odor, burnt flesh and hair, coming from? Like a bad dream. Here the air was thick with a heavy temperature, the sensation of sunlight through windowed glass kissed skin.... But there was complete darkness. So the sun's touch must be an illusion. Why else would this room, surely on his ship, surely within his very own quarters, within the confines of his very own bed...be in complete. Undeniable. Pitch. Shadow. The sound of footsteps. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      A soft moan escaped the throat of Jack Sparrow. It was dry, and he felt that it would hurt if he were to attempt swallowing. Everything seemed to hurt, now that he thought about it. Hell, it hurt to think. Maybe that's why everything was so dark yet. It just hurt too much, so he didn't want to bother opening his eyes. Still, he was confused. One minute raiding a ship, the next laying in his own cabin (or at least it felt like such, he was sure). What the hell had happened? Perhaps those footfalls could explain something. He fought his exhaustion to open his eyes, and found that that just wasn't happening. Utter shock crossed over his features, but he didn't make a noise--never give away your weaknesses, after all. 

**- - - William - - -:**      At the cessation of booted approach, the firm pressure of an open palm centered on the chest of that bewildered Captain. It immediately translated caution, as though it might accidently shatter Jack like glass. And a voice, as thickly heavy as the temperature, welled up from the cavern of shadow, from somewhere hovered above Sparrow. "Don't move too far." The voice held astonishment; it was edging of a quick breath that wordlessly said. I cant believe you can move at all, you reckless moron. The palm's placement was only there to calmly bring Jack from the transition of unconsciousness to reality, in all its grim details. It was William, of course, the one speaking, asking, wondering how in the hell his Captain still maintained some of his immortality. The acute smell of smoked meats was intermingled with William's masculine smell of copper and wood. "For strength." It didn't seem like he was going to be leaving soon, and guided Jack's dirty fingers with his own, to the edge of this food platter. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      The grimy fingers beneath William's twitched ever so slightly with the touch, and Jacks' mouth turned downward as he felt the plate with a calloused finger. His other hand was busy though--weakly making his way up to his face--touching at a cloth that was almost gently tied about his eyes. That there, could be a reason for not being able to see. "What in the bloody hell?" Other hand was snatched away from the plate, moving to the back of his head, as Sparrow sought to free himself from the darkness of the cloth around his eyes. Hands moved awkwardly, as if trying to find the tied knot there. "William?" He questioned--as if demanding an explanation. It was hard to move so much, his brain decided, and he all but passed out from the gestures that shouldn't have been so hard in the first place. His fingers throbbed in pain as he moved to untie the knot. 

**- - - William - - -:**      There was anxiousness in Will's rapid response. "No, Jack, you have to let them heal." He heatedly demanded, in charge momentarily. There was no movement to intercept Jack's clumsy, pained fingers. So that he didn't unintentionally inflict any more damage, Turner only closed his hand around Jack's sleeve, fisting the material and trying his best to protest without actually using any strength to rip the fingers away from the knot. "God da-" Grunts. "For fuck's sake, Sparrow. Before you permanently handicap yourself, stop. Can you feel it?" The boy's voice pitched and dropped again in a mix of irritation and a darkly bruised fear. Fear. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Hands fell limp and then dropped back down into his lap (almost disrupting the tray in front of him) at the feeling of Will pulling at his sleeve--and at the words that he used. Heal? Permanent handicap? It -all- hurt, and he wasn't too sure that he was ready to attempt focusing on the biggest hurt of all. Mouth let out a soft noise that was most uncharacteristic of him, and he took in a deep breath. His -head- hurt. The front of it, mostly. A dull, throbbing pain that very likely wouldn't go away as soon as one would hope. "William?" He questioned again--though this time it was a softer, breathier inquiry. Slightly confused as to his situation, though he was beginning to realize it more fully as the moments passed. His skin tingled on his arms and chest, as though it had been scratched, and he sunk further down into the bed, finding it most difficult to stay in a half sitting position. And he didn't like it. At all. Captain Jack Sparrow was -not- one to show his weaknesses. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will succumbed to the relief of a shattered breath pushed out through his nose, even allowed the wisp of long fingers to banish sweats sheen from brow's olive skin. But how long could relief comfort when the actuality of the real problem had not been solved. The invulnerable was vulnerable. The unbeatable had been floored. The conqueror had been conquered by his body's own humanity. Since that foul incident on the rum boat, Will had entered some fantasy world where Jack Sparrow, the pillar upon which everyone else walked beneath, had actually fallen. And Will felt that grasp of fear again, he had believed at first, that Jack was dead, just a tangled body among tangled explosion wreckage. But now - with the Captain pain so clearly evident and acutely real - Will truly wondered, if this was a fate worse than death for Sparrow. Palm met shoulder, careful again, like it was shards of broken glass, and used this touch just to reassure Jack of his presence. "You have severe burns, but they will heal." He attempted at confidence in his voice, but only managed a slow and exhausted tone. Worry? Exhaustion? How long had Jack been asleep? How Many nights had Will been tending him without bed rest? He added, this time, almost reassuring himself alone. "I know about burns, you can't be a blacksmith without some knowledge of that... Jack." A questioning hesitation. I'm here, Jack. But he did not say it aloud. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Burns." Captain Jack Sparrow repeated carefully. "I see." He tried his best--and almost succeeded--at not allowing himself to twitch or cringe at the touch. It wasn't all -that- bad, he told himself, re-gathering his cockiness. "Interesting," he allowed himself to say, trying to turn lighten the mood. His calloused fingers--though burned and pained, still seemed to have a mind of their own, and they cautiously played over the plate in front of him again--as if trying to figure out what it was there. It smelled all right, the back of his mind decided. Though the idea of actually attempting to eat it wasn't a pleasant one. He was rather thirsty though. It hurt to talk. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will had already foreseen this, and for a moment, he was attuned with Jack, detected that wince of parched throat and constricted voice of thirst. A leather bag of cold water was detached from it's loop at the young one's belt, where his saber still hung within its sheathe, the blade that had cut down Jack's intended killer. In triumph, like any good pirate, the blackened hue of blood still cling to that blade's laced edge...or maybe he had been far too occupied in the welfare of Sparrow to bother with cleansing the weapon. The leather's chilled surface put a soothingly refreshing cold weight against the back of Jack's long, slithering fingers. "But you need to eat, it's been nigh two days since the..." Ahem. "And sleep, and, don't bloody touch your bandage." Humph, that facade of his tough exterior was brought forth by the Captain returning pompousness. "If you can somehow do this. You just might not have to wear two eye patches the rest of your life." William actually let a snort of a chuckle out at the last part. As well, attempting at making some lightness from the dark grim realities of Jack's potentially crippling wound. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Long and tingling digits closed carefully around the leather, and Jack knew then that it was water. Not exactly what he'd wanted to drink, but at the moment, it wouldn't do to open his mouth and speak needlessly. Not that he would admit that to young William. Raising the drink to his lips--with much apprehension-- he took a drink. It didn't turn out as clean a move as he'd have liked, and water dribbled messily down his chin, wetting his double braided beard and neck. Not his style. Still, the water was more soothing than he'd liked to admit, and so he cleared his throat and spoke again. It was easier this time. "I'm not tired," Lie. "Or hungry." Another lie. But he would not be treated like he was weak, nor would he let on that he actually was. Confusing still clouded his mind. Since the what? He couldn't seem to recall. There was a gunman, that William killed and then… well. He was here. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will wouldn't be bringing him rum, because the pursuit of that toxin had turned out so nicely last time. Ha! Jack would be forced to wait for the damn rum until his own legs could transport him to the sought after kegs below deck. There would be no plans for Will on assisting the man toward inebriation, not when water would help heal that much swifter. And while Jack concealed his flaw of fragility, Will's concern and fear were blanketed with his mask of impassive authority. There had been no formal discussion of it amongst the crew, but since their captain's misfortune on that rum boat, they had all assumed charge of certain things. The sprite Anamaria was the authority for navigation, while Joshamee Gibbs took the command of crew's duties. Will, of course, had been self-assigned to preside over the one and only Captain. A difficult and feared job, but he would risk it. "Should I start making you a cane, then?" He let out an unemotional snort. "You seem quite willing to take on a life of blindness. Eh, Pirate?" 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      A certain amount of haughtiness died from the Captain's persona for a moment, tension making itself obvious on the lines near his mouth. "Cane?" One would imagine that generally darkly kohl lined eyes would be widening in surprise just then. But they were covered and aching, and so they didn't. His fingers spasmed in his moment of painful realization at Will's words, and the leather bag of water dropped clumsily from his fingers. He didn't really notice that, however, even if the cool liquid was spilling out onto the sheets of his bed, and fully disrupting the plate there. He said nothing more though, his mouth remaining in a straight, and nearly impassive line. Shock seemed to be setting in, as his mind grasped the seriousness of his situation. Jack Sparrow, it seemed, would be a difficult patient to put up with. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will's wince of shame was cloaked in shadow, head bowed forward. Eyes trained on the descent of the cold pouch, spilling its contents in a spurted gush, flooding Jack's plate of meat in a little watery soup. Will gathered all of this from the man's lap and replaced it at the foot of the bed, just out of reach of any kicks that might flip it to the floor. There will always be more food, but for now, maybe there were more pressing matters - topics - slowly overwhelming truths rearing ugly heads. The crescents of inky onyx eyes absorb Jack, in whole, without having to answer to any of the Captain's questioning looks and sly remarks. Now Will had the advantage, to watch the man without the need for hiding any of it. Idly, he realized, that even without Sparrow's hypnotizing, intoxicating eyes spinning their wicked threads of allure, the Captain still maintained the sultry and tempting air about him. Will could not escape being haunted by the sinewy pirate dog, with his single wrap of bandage, like the blindfold of a man at his execution. Reiterating more easily without the caustic bite of his former tone, "After surviving that explosion, you must still have some immortality lingering in your blood. You wont need a cane." Certainly not if he has me to help him. Another unsaid thought cloud, foggy. Will raked at damp and inky hair, searching for his footing, where did he stand? Did Jack deserve this for his recklessness? ... At least it was better than the bullet that had been originally leveled at Jack's head. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      There was a long moment, in which Jack Sparrow did not respond, his face was still fixed forward--as if he was too (dare it even be said?) afraid to try and turn his head in the direction in which Will was and his mouth was still set into a tense and straight line. Long and usually hyperactive digits remained in his lap, occasionally writhing--grabbing at the sheets there. But that hurt, and so he stopped almost as soon as he started. The silence was both deafening and overwhelming at the same time, and Jack's mind begged for it to stop. For him to open his mouth and say something, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to do it just then. After what seemed like hours passed, he finally decided to speak. "No. I won't need one." He had too much pride for an instrument that only helped with the simple task of walking. 

**- - - William - - -:**      With a grim determination, Turner managed to focus on his own personal mission. "I put together some burn salve, and applied most of it while you were asleep. But only to the major burns, I need you to tell me where the other minor injuries are." Will was already witnessing the delicacy with which Jack was shielding his hands as though they were sensitive to the faintest friction. A good indication of minor burns that were not visible through Jack's thoroughly tanned body. What other plane of flesh had Will missed while soothing the medication over only scolded areas? Nimble blacksmith hands shoved leafy sleeves up the hinge of his elbows, gathering them there to stay and allow more access for his tending. Surveying Sparrow, Will knelt to an eye level with the injured. Well, more like Eye to Bandage. Only a little bit of Jack's body was exposed through the open front of the man's vest shirt, and Will sought to find anymore signs of the burns around where Jack's singed hair met his neck, while revealing a capsule of salve from within pocket. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Head turned in the direction away from Turner, as if too weary to even hear out the other man's words. It was all catching up with him now, and it seemed that even listening was a taxing thing. He was tired, though it wouldn't be admitted. His head was both heavy and light at the same time--not to mention on fire--and his body seemed to be considering the idea of falling back unconscious. But that was something Jack himself wasn't in the mood for, and so he willed himself to stay up. "Minor burns?" he echoed, as if trying to comprehend. Mouth twitched to the side, as if it couldn't decide whether or not it wanted to frown or conjure up a smile he wasn't feeling. Finally, something of a useful answer was given--though probably not all William was looking for. His hands rose upward for a moment, and his fingers wiggled in the air absently, as if trying to explain for themselves that they were pained. "Everything hurts, William." He didn't bother with pride for the moment. He was too tired for that. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Without hesitation, some of the pain medicating mixture was deposited into cupped palms. The palms colliding together like those weaving and interlacing ocean waves, equally distributing the silky salve between them. "That's all I wanted to know." And with that, Jack's wiggling fingers were captured within the coils of slippery ones, both of the captain's expressively gesturing hands gathered together between Will's, working the aiding formula over swell and dip of each sharp knuckle and down the tendril length of each of Jack's digits, even over the top of each loop of polished rings. Will worked the pads of his lotioned fingers up under Sparrow's hands to the palms, kneading the creased plains of those palms with a massage targeted for the centers. Until finally, each coated bit of Will had been transferred to Jack, with a quick soothing and comforting sensation to momentarily nullify the burns there that were hidden in his deeply tanned skin. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      With a sharp intake of breath, Jacks' hands spasmed once between Will's and then he forced himself to relax some as the blacksmith turned pirate played nursemaid to his burning digits. The feel of the salve was an icy burn, but a relieving one, and so he remained silent. His head was faced in Will's direction, then, and if his eyes hadn't been covered by thick cloth and bandage, they'd have been fixed on Will and glittering with mirth. If. But even now, as he had the direct attention of Turner on him, he couldn't seem to find the strength to fully enjoy--or goad. His fingers wiggled again, once freed of Will's grasp. "Better," he sighed out softly, with a slight nod. Tone was mixed with both exhaustion and pain, yet still managed to be lusty. Velvet rubbed against silk--but just a tad more breathy than usual. There was just no use in pretending he was fine--not when the pirate to the side of him held relief in his hands. There would be time for pretending later. "Shoulders," came a soft murmur, his head turning to the side again--as if he were wishing to be gazing out of a window, or at the sea, "Chest..." He was beginning to compare his shirt to a hot knife when he moved too much. Never a good sign, really. 

**- - - William - - -:**      The bed dipped subtly at one corner to compensate with the weight of Will, climbing to perch in the gap between the wide bed's head board and Jack, the man himself. Focus. Keep that focus, the last solid foot hold for Will. The more swiftly he applied the medication, the sooner Jack won't be in his care. And that was what he wanted, wasn't it? The salve held a pungent earthy aroma, which saturated that heavy air mingling between the two pirates. The captain and his convert, his pirate pupil, his devotee, Will. To comply with the request, the shirt would have to be removed, but that wasn't too difficult to maneuver, but the youthful one distinctly caught Jack revealing a wince at one point when that last sleeve was liberated free from his arm. There should be words that healed as well as this homemade, blacksmith's lotion - but Will did not know them, and wouldn't attempt such a dangerous feat. Why should he risk ruining Jack Sparrow in a rare moment of submission? Yes. Jack was actually being obedient to Will's tending - And the boy wouldn't disappoint on this. Slippery palms were invested onto the stretch of sinewy expanse connecting the two shoulders. There were knots beneath that layer of sun-toughened skin, the long fingers seem to locate those spots on their own accord while sweeping to the medicate the exposed area. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      A small grunt made way from Jack's mouth, and the injured man found it in his best interest to lean back against the headboard of his bed. His head was swimming and his eyes--sightless damned things were tingling to the point of near distraction. Blackness was everywhere--a never-ending void that was sucking him in without any remorse at all. And then, there were the hands of the blacksmith. Keeping him anchored, pulling him back to reality and consciousness. The salve was cold against his skin, a change from all the burn. He leaned his head backward a little, long, dirty locks of hair dripping down his back and into the way on his shoulders. Through the exhaust and almost mind numbing pain, Will's hands were a distraction in themselves. His usually quick mind was far too deluded and slow to think of words, and so he remained quiet, mouth shifting ever so slightly, as if to signify a release of some bit of tension there. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Glazed streaks were left in the path of the swordsman's traveling fingers, fixating themselves past the corded shoulders to alleviate the injuries on Jack's chest. There was a battle flaring within Will concerning the placement of his gaze's attention. Was he to look upon that tranced expression splashing Jack's features, or was he to concentrate on the workings of his hands over the sultry pirate's chest? A difficult debate, but Will wasn't a very patient creature and decided to end the war by closing his own eyes instead. Casting them both to the vacuum of black shadow. But this wasn't going to last, because, with no vision, the sensation of that warm skin under greased fingers was heightened to a fever pitch, as well as their mingled smells and the subtle mewl of a groan from Jack. That's about enough, Will swiftly disengaged his ministrations and filled more space between them by propelling himself backwards on slippery hands. In his frantic separation, prompted by that fear of liking Jack's submission too much, and the reaction his body was now painfully making itself aware of now - Will flipped the dish of food and spilled water over to the ground with a clatter, and likewise, tumbling off with a comedic 'ker-fump'. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack--who had been between painful bliss and sleep a moment before, sat up straight in a moment of (truly) blind panic. It hurt to do, even with the salve. Such a quick movement shouldn't have been allowed, or done. His ligaments and body ached with both burns and unuse. One hand had shot outward, moving to the left and right as if seeking out the now missing form of William Turner. His position turned to one where he was kneeling on the bed, and leaning forward--still probing the air. "William?" He asked, his voice confused--not having fully understood the noises that had just happened. His balance was bad, he realized. The one arm keeping him up was weak, it trembled with his weight and his body swayed ever so slightly. All in all, he hated himself and his weakness at the moment. 

**- - - William - - -:**      That glorious landing had included broken pieces of a clay plate. Will emitted a long drawn out throaty groan, unable to perceive which hurt more, the clumsy backwards tumble amongst ham slices and sloshing water or the fierce aching constriction at that lace up front of his trousers. God damn good thing Jack was blind. Slick back head of ink hair connects to the ground with a defeated fall, through lidded, frustrated eyes, he gazed upon the wobbly Captain, like a drowning man looking up through the surface at the one last hope for rescue. Of course Will's rescuer would be crippled, bah! He was just being bitter now, embarrassed. Gathers up his cool, balanced exterior, he responds smoothly, as though he weren't lying halfway tangled in Jack's sheets and partially under his bed at this point. Calm. "I'll go get some more food, Jack." He needed to get out of here, just long enough to uncoil his severely strung tensions. "Aye?" He swiveled to rise up without haste and escape. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Giving up on balance, and the idea of actually taking the time or effort to go back to a sitting position, Jack just let his arms collapse, so that he ended up laying on his stomach on the bed. The impact against the bed, along with the quick movement was enough for him to let out a groan of pain. One that he tried covering by giving a quick smile in the direction he assumed Will was. (But the boy's voice had seemed muffled, which was really just confusing the hell out of the captain of the Black Pearl.) "Aye," he responded, then, in a soft tone. Idly, he wondered why it was so hot in the room. He'd noticed it before, but now it seemed more obvious. The back of his mind laughed at him, offering mean words. He deserved fever, among other things, it seemed. Semi-achy hands moved upward to touch gently at his bandaging, paying no more attention to temperature or William. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Taking advantage of Jack's temporary distraction, not a surprise, since the Captain had trouble with keeping his attention on any one thing for any amount of time, Will didn't bother to collect the mess he had conjured up - his top priority being the escape, the cleaning of broken dish and food would be reserved for a time after he had figured out why the extreme close proximity and contact had sparked that frightening result in him. But didn't the swordsman know all too well? Banishes the inkling of that thought and rids the grease from his fingers on to his pants, dry hands yanking back the cabin's portal, and boot's hurried stomp crossing the threshold out, and post shut of door, the foot falls dissipate far to a separate end of that great black whale of a ship, the Pearl. Down to the galley. 


	3. Day Two

Title: Of Blindness and Vision: Day Two (of three)   
Author: Frost AND Kacey   
Rating: PG-13 (for language—for now.)  
Summary: Jack gets injured, and Will has to play nurse-maid. Or at least try.   
Disclaimer: Don't own it. But we do own this story. So take THAT.   
Archive: O_O Yes..! Tell us first, though.   
Authors notes: This is a response to the plot bunny illness challenge given by glitterundine@yahoo.com. It is affectionately called "Pity Jack Please Will". You'll see why.   
Uh, anyway, this is actually a part of our "Of…" series, which is ongoing and being spewed out in no particular order. Enjoy!   
Oh yeah. Jack is played by Frost, and Will by Kacey.

**Day Two:** **- - - Jack - - -:**      It was hot, he decided--hot and painful--and in a bad way. So hot it was cold. So maybe, it was actually cold...? Captain Jack Sparrow was still lying on his stomach, in the odd position he'd dropped into the night before. He'd fell back into the depths of unconsciousness once Will had left, and if the boy had ever come back, Jack wasn't aware of it in the least. A small moan escaped trembling lips and he pushed himself painfully back up to a sitting position. It took more than a moment, much to his chagrin. The darkness of his surroundings was also painful--the captain of the ship had someone willed himself to believe it had all been a bad dream somewhere in the middle of the night, and had had a firm belief that his vision would be as good as ever when morning came. It was not better. It was black, and had he been another man, he may have just sobbed at the realization. Instead, he decided he really just wanted to drink his pain and worries away. "William?" He called out softly--wondering if perhaps the boy was still in the room. Upon hearing no response in a few moments time, he decided that the room must have been empty. So, with a wince, he sat up--fingers trembling on their hand holds of the bed, and arms twitching at the effort it took to get to the position. More work yet, was his attempt to stand. Legs had been unused for days, and weakened with fever and burn didn't hold up all too well on the first try, as he pushed away from the bed, and he was sent crashing down to the cool wooden boarded floor. 

**- - - William - - -:**      William had needed a day to restore his bold, self-assured, complacency. With his normal composure intact, the thought of getting back to Jack's aide was no longer something to be wary of. The night before had been a sad product of his exhaustion and last remnants of his fear that Jack might not even be as lucky as to wake again. Indeed, he had awoken, to a hellish nightmare, Will was sure, but at least life still coursed his veins, at least that life allowed for the chance of recovery, of returning to his former self. Armed with these new confidences, Turner gathered up what he would need to re-bandage the Captain, re treat, and finally, he hoped, force the stubborn fool of a criminal pirate to eat food. If Will failed again today, the skeletal one was in risk of just wilting away. Ha. Will wouldn't let Jack be so lucky, if Jack was determined on refusing food, the wily Blacksmith would employ other tactics. Indeed, a flask of aromatic that toxic alcohol, Caribbean Rum, was lassoed to his belt's tie (Possibly to be used as an incentive if Jack wanted to act up). He had reached the cabins' door when the awkward thump echoed painfully beyond the panel of the wooden portal. The sound pitched the boy's adrenaline a notch, imagining fifty horrid things that could've happened to Jack with that noise. Swiftly getting in to witness the spectacle - he deposited the food on Jack's desk under the window and stooped down to somehow get Jack. Briefly Turner realized that his grand Captain wouldn't be battling in any wars with him anytime soon. He groaned. "Come on, Jack. Up you come." 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack-- both dazed, slightly delirious and embarrassed at the fall let out something of an unintelligible mumble as he allowed himself to be pulled upward into a mostly standing position. "William?" He swayed and trembled in the hands of the blacksmith, both burning and freezing and blind. He was still shirtless; either because he was too lazy to have put his shirt back on, or had not noticed that it was off in the first place. It didn't matter. He gestured in a way that one would have swore he needed sight for. Head turned to the left, and then to the right, lips twitching downward into a frown. "It's really horrible," he said in a way that made it perfectly clear it wasn't really his mind talking. "It's all very dark, you see. And cold." There was a long pause as he swayed again--hands darting out as if he were afraid to fall. "Or maybe hot...." Beads clacked together softly as he moved his head in Will's direction again. "I think I'd like a drink," he finished off miserably. 

**- - - William - - -:**      For the first time, with Jack supported in his arms, Will briefly wondered if the Captain, in this weakened and unhinged state, was mistaking him for his father, William Turner Sr. However, these wonderings were fleeting as Jack tipped and staggered as roughly as a ship tossed by turbulent storms. Will had no swatch of cloth to reel Jack to his balance and was forced to leave hands on the man's angular arms. A clear twist of shock warped Will's expression. Jack's skin was clammy under his grip, and a sheen of sweat was pooling into the crevasses of the pirate villain's sinewy muscles and over his brow. Being a blacksmith and knowing some handy burning medication recipes didn't make him a doctor, but he knew a fever when he saw one. This was severe. Good God, he started placing blame on himself. IT seemed time for drastic measures now. Will gathered the smaller man into a cradle around his shoulders with his arm, guiding him to the desk. "You'll get your rum. While you eat." When Jack was secure at that desk surface with the platter in front of him, the food directing Jack's hands with its strong fresh, hot oven cooked smell. Will plucked the thickest blanket off the bed to cocoon around the shivering one. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      There was a long pause, as Jack's bronzed and dirty fingers trailed over the edge of his plate, was if trying to figure it out. He knew what it was, could touch it. Could smell the food there, but for some reason it just didn't seem as real when one couldn't see it. He allowed himself to be wrapped in a blanket as his fingers finally curled around the handle of a fork. Though he had no sight, his head was focused in the direction of the plate--lines around his mouth creasing ever so slightly. And he stayed in that position for a long while, before turning his whole body around to where he assumed Will would be. "Really not hungry, lad," he started, attempting to charm Will to give him what he wanted even now. And what he wanted was to drink himself into numbness. The food--though something he recognized by smell as something he generally liked, wasn't doing wonders for him on this day. 

**- - - William - - -:**      This prompted one of William Turner's signature, closed lipped expressive and sharp brow lifts. He adamantly folded arms into a knot over his narrower chest. Obstinately firm about this topic, he couldn't see Jack getting any worse from having a healthy meal - certainly a better prescription than drinking rum on a three-day empty stomach. Despite the undeniable wicked charm powers the weak man was assaulting him with, Will refused to let something else happen to blame himself for later. He already blamed Jack's current state on his lack of medical skills and bad timing. All he bloody needed now was for the sinful Captain to die from starvation because he succumbed to the power of Jack's pleading. "Are you a pirate or a child, man? I'll force feed you if I have to." The hint of his snarl lacing the last statement and the sound of his long, saber being freed from its sheathe was unmistakable. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      This would have been the part where Sparrow rose his eyebrows and let his eyes show a certain amount of surprise. But that wasn't going to happen today, it seemed. "Oh." Said Jack, a little sadly--and a little deliriously--before turning his head back to his plate. "Play nice," he murmured softly, then. And it didn't make much sense, but if one were to confront him about it, he probably wouldn't recall saying it in the first place. He had seeming lost his plate when turned around, and calloused and softly tingling fingers moved slowly over the expanse of the desk to find it. Upon doing that he clicked dirty nails along the side. Yes. That was his plate. Right hand with fork moved cautiously forward, as if to poke at something on the plate. Unfortunately for his ego, he missed the whole plate in general, and the fork ended up falling from his hand and onto the desk next to him. There was a long pause, and when he finally did speak, it wasn't exactly the most enlightening of sentences. "Oh..." 

**- - - William - - -:**      That shame resurfaced past the snarl and William's bowed head shielded that inward scowl. He sat down across the desk from his counterpart and, leaning over the space between them with his taller height, Will took the chicken by the protruding bone at the leg's end, placing into the empty fingers of the criminal Sparrow. And, to appease his own shame, Will slithered the flask of rum free from its tie at his belt, but lingers his hold on it a moment longer to assure that at least some pathetic morsel of food was taken before committing that horrible crime he said he wouldn't do - if Jack was going to be sick and miserable, he might as well go down numb with nothing but hiccups for companionship. He cringed. But a morbid thought, could he actually allow that to happen to the man? "It's been my damn fault since the beginning." His frustration tightened his jaw until a muscle ticked. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Slender and long digits curled around the chicken leg, and then, with something of a sigh, the pirate Captain gave in and leaned forward to take a bite of it. There seemed to be no use in arguing with Will at the moment, and so he just chose not to. Half clouded mind churned slowly as he attempted to not be further sickened by the food in front of him. Turner was reminding him a lot of his father, just now. Bootstrap Bill--that's why it was so hard to argue. There'd been no arguing with William Turner Sr., after all. His fingers tapped softly at the plate with his other hand--as if he were afraid he was going to lose the thing if he took his hand away. There was a pause then, and Jack stopped in mid chew, his head tilting slightly to the side in curiosity. "What's yer fault, boy?" Jack finally gave up on keeping track of his plate, and with a tremble pulled the blanket closer to himself. 

**- - - William - - -:**      A bitter self targeted scowl. William fingers snuck up to the nape of his own neck and followed his black ponytail to its short length. "If I had simply said 'Get down, you bloody moron', this all could have been avoided, eh?" He yanked once at those tendrils of oily hair in exasperation. "If I had just tried harder to stir you three days ago to eat solid food - " Propelling himself up from the table with palms slapped to the grainy wood surface. The sound of his stalking, wide steps curved around toward Jack's shallow storage of clothes. The man needed clothes, he needed a bath more, but for now, Will wasn't sure how prepared he was to offer the idea. He wasn't sure how prepared he was to experience that god-awful suffering that he went through yesterday. "And, god save me, I know it'll be my fucking fault, Jack, that you die from malnutrition and too much rum." He slapped the flask into the desk directly in front of Jack's free hand. Over one arm, a new shirt and jacket was slung. The voice swooped down into a low rasped timber of a boy trying to be a man. "There. Now, hurry, I need to change the bandage over your eyes, and your going to have to cooperate." Wait, why was he even asking for cooperation? That would be a cold day in Dante's inferno. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack offered no reply to the boys' words. If he wanted to target himself for things that were beyond his control, let him. Besides, his mind wasn't nearly quick enough to think of any reassuring words. Not that he'd have said them even if it was being quick. Instead, he placed the chicken back on the plate (fever and food didn't seem to be a good mix for Jack, it seemed, and he was becoming more repulsed by the smell of it than anything else) and picked up the flask. He didn't drink from it though; he only held it in his hands, a disturbing amount of insecurity lingering over his features. "I'm not going to die," he said finally and with such confidence that it would leave most people staring in wonder. Then, he took a drink of the rum, letting it warm the inside of his throat and stomach as it went down. But even that didn't seem to settle so well with him. Ah, well. He'd let William fuss over him before drinking then. "Fine," he moaned out, teeth clicking together for a moment before he calmed himself enough to stop that. Weakness was bad, he reminded himself. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will thought to muster up a disdainful and skeptical snort - for it was only a thought however, and he was silent, studying the enigma that was Jack Sparrow through narrowed onyx eyes. With Jack, you actually believed you were starting to scratch the surface of his mystery and intrigue, just at the same moment when the infuriating idiot would trigger his trap door and send you back to square one, in the dark, lost and where you started. Will was in a twisted middle ground between baffled and rage. The boy's sharp shoulders rolled back with a slump and he succumbed to defeat for a while, after all, hadn't Jack gotten his own damn way again? Who was there to say that Will would ever be able to deny his Captain anything that man actually desired? What a chilling thought. Or was that blood quickening? So the Captain was never going to die, eh? With a breathy note of acquiesce, the newest pirate stated flatly. " Tell that to the man who was aiming that bullet for your neck. You can drink and stand. C'mon." 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Mm," said Jack--using his free hand to brush the blanket from his shoulders and then to push himself up from this seat at the desk. "That man forgot one very important thing, William." The flask remained in his other hand, but he didn't bother attempting to drink as he swayed on his feet. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." Quite a declaration for the obsidian haired fellow that could hardly keep his balance, and wasn't really quite sure in which direction he should be facing to talk to the blacksmith turned pirate. Still, his haughty personality was as much of a blessing as it was a flaw, and at the moment, it was saving his ego greatly. He'd reward it later, if it occurred to him, with more inflation. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will Turner mouthed along with Jack Sparrow's signature motto, his anxious impatience rising sharp shoulders. The phrase, 'Don't encourage him' came to mind and Will promptly responded, "Bath. Now or tonight?" A point emphasized by a wrinkle of his nose, while eyes fanned a once over down the length of the velvet voiced pirate commander. The good man, pirate Sparrow was drenched in a fevered sweat, and sticky with the residue grease of that burn salve. Jack's salt and leather smell was no longer as strong as it had been in his prime health a few days ago. Turner swiveled the clothes he was holding by the wrist, waiting and eyeing Jack for any sign or signal of a reaction. For the bath, if Jack was good, Will considered temporarily untying the blindfold bandage that shielded the burned eyes. It looked as though most of the Captain's burns were going to heal, but Will still wanted to give a check to all of them. For safety's sake, of course. Yeah. Ahem. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Standing in the middle of the room, shirtless, freezing and tipsy (though not by way of any liquor), Jack frowned. "Bath?" He reiterated, thinking it over. Or at least attempting to. It would be -warm- anyway. And that was something he was fairly sure he wanted. Fingers gripped cautiously against the flask of rum in his hand, and he brought it to his lips after a moment of swaying to drink (as if that would help the situation any). It made his mind more foggy, but it numbed the body as well, and he was mostly glad of that. "Now," He remembered that Will had asked a question. "It's cold here," he decided in an idle tone, his head shifting to the side, as if he were going to glance at something there--not that he could. 

**- - - William - - -:**      The threat of Jack spilling over a chair or catching a foot on the corner of a rug was quite substantial. If the scurvy rogue took a fall, Will might very well be tending to the wounds for the rest of his career as a pirate – he could just imagine all the sleepless nights that that life would entail. Instead of permitting this to happen, he guided Jack securely by the hinge of his elbow, wondering fleetingly if Sparrow actually did trust him enough to depend on him for vision, food, and hygiene - rum. Or perhaps the Captain was just to far enveloped in his imbalanced delirium to even think about trust, he had no choice, after all. Once Jack's hand has reached the edge of that stolen English bath tub, Will disentangled himself from the man - with a new mission to secure heated water. Idly, over his shoulder, Will tossed, "It will be even more cold tonight." Stooping down to a crouch before Jack's potbelly cabin stove, he used the matches there to spark a flame to the coals and wood inside the small furnace's gate teeth. The embers leapt up in a warm kiss against the air of the room, heating. "I'll stay in here tonight - its not safe to leave this furnace on with you alone." Explained as the clean water supply in the cabin was set, one bucket at a time, of course, over the furnace to warm. "Trust it to Jack Sparrow to set the Pearl on fire because he couldn't get up to put it out." Snorts disdainfully, Will released the buttons down the front of his vest shirt, the heat against skin soothing that swell of...? Anticipation? Why? Just because he wasn't going back to his own quarters? 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Stay where you like," said Jack absently, standing near a wall, where William had left him. The back of his mind objected greatly to such treatment. Sight or not, he was no child and did not need to be lead around by the elbow or told what to do. The front of his mind however, was numbed with fevered pain and rum, and so it didn't bother objecting. He ignored the rude comment about setting his boat on fire, and instead, took to the task of drinking again. He'd end up being fall over drunk at this rate--and didn't seem to be in much of a mine to care. The sounds of water sloshing and fire burning set him slightly at ease though. He knew the sounds, and so they didn't worry him. But the fact that he couldn't exactly place where Will was in the room was aggravating. It was easier when the boy talked--but that wasn't something he did nearly as often as Jack. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will delivered a skeptic arched black brow, would Jack rather he didn't stay and let the Captain freeze to death during the night with no furnace on? The boy's shoulders slumped, rolling forward, shaking his head with that subtle mixture of sympathy and disgruntlement. Pad of finger tests the water's surface, to discern if the hearth had toasted it enough. If it was too hot, it wouldn't be a very pleasant bath for the victim of a gunpowder keg explosion. With that first bucket poured into the shallow, but long, tub bowl - Will swiftly set about heating the rest of the water before it cooled down to freezing all over again. Yes, in fact, only the sounds of this preparation could signal the swordsman's place, for attempting to explain anything rarely got you anywhere with Jack - the Captain always had to be in control, it was futile. So Will kept to himself, reserving words for his mind and burying everything else below the priority of doing his loyal duty. 3'4ths of the tub vessel was filled, a smooth very light breath of steam on the tepid surface. The boy just quietly prepared the very last of the buckets, stoking the coals with the iron poker. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack fidgeted in his spot near the wall. He'd found that it was much easier to lean against the stationary side of the room, and had soon slid--with a soft grunt or two--himself into a sitting position next to it. Long and grimy digits tenderly held the flask--as if gripping it too much would be painful, but not holding on to it at all would hurt far more. The wall was cold against his bare back, making his teeth click together for a few moments before he finally got used to it--because at this point, getting used to things just seemed like a better idea than actually trying to change them. "William?" He asked, his tone a breathy one. He couldn't quite figure out why he'd asked for the man in the first place, either. He didn't really have a question, he just... needed sound that made sense. The flask of rum was brought to his lips again, and he drank sloppily, though not with thirst. 

**- - - William - - -:**      The last bucket had sponged up enough heat, Will meticulously emptied its contents to merge with the rest of the water, without spilling any of the needed liquid. This completed task and the breathy inquiry from the corner prompted lidded ebon eyes to Jack. The man sunken to the floor was illuminated by the wavering glow of orange flames. Will could see the lively color licking at Sparrow's otherwise paler flesh; the image was a gloomy one.... Jack looked so lost. It made him close his teeth down on his tongue without registering it. Cascading down to his knees slowly, Will knelt beside the tub, leaning over to the table near by, with long arms reaching up to retrieve the fresh bandages and fresher new batch of medication from where he had put them earlier. Speaking without looking. "Here." And again, with the same dry and guarded hollow speech. "Ready." 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Ready." Whether or not Jack was agreeing with Will, or just copying his words would remain unknown. He finally let the rum go, setting the rum down beside him with little actual amount of care. He stayed in his spot against the wall, though his mind was telling him to do otherwise. Then again, his mind was saying a lot of things, and not all of it was even coming close to registering. In just a few moments, Jack would be fully nude--save for bandages--in front of young William Turner. The back of his mind was angry. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The front of his mind flitted around, not able to stay on any one thought for a long period of time. So it never really occurred to him that he should be angry. That this wasn't how he had planned on showing Will his body. That he didn't need any goddamned help standing up or getting undressed or bathing. He just... sat there, head tilted weakly to the side, and waited for whatever was going to come next. The back of his mind was enraged at that, as well. 

**- - - William - - -:**      If it were not for that fact that the water was going to chill again, Will might have lingered a moment longer at the side of the tub, rifling through the strips and straps of bandages in his hands. But because time was of the essence, he abandoned the tub and the bandages, and crawled to a place between Jack and the furnace, which cut off that eerie red glow from where it hovered around the fallen Sparrow like a death cloud. Blacksmith's calloused rough digits met the plane of Jack's shoulder, where sweat pooled in the dip between neck and collarbone. "Its warm here." Its all he said, recoiling his hand away and poised to replace them at the remains of Jack's clothes, to banish them away - but the youth hesitated a moment, which led to tidal wave of doubt, would Jack want this help. He decided to stall once more to interpret the Captain's willingness to be undressed by him, to be helped by him. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Aye," he agreed--his body almost instinctually leaning toward the warmth of the fire. It felt nicer in that direction, and he couldn't help but approve at the idea of a bath again. Jack moved a little, pressing a palm against the cool wooden floorboards in an attempt to stand up and undress himself. He wobbled slightly, when he got about half way to standing and had to pause to rebalance and breath. His jaw was clenched, showing that he was putting more effort than he had into both concentrating and moving. Burned fingers twitched against the wall and the Captain let out a little pant. "It shouldn't be this hard, William." His voice was softer then, as he went on, as if he wasn't quite sure he wanted to talk his thoughts out or not. "It hasn't been this hard since the marooning..." Jack didn't talk about the marooning much, if at all ever. He swayed again, but didn't have enough luck left to keep himself on his feet, and so stumbled forward, falling back onto his knees. Knees against wood should not have sounded so defeated, but somehow they did anyway. 

**- - - William - - -:**      With the mention of the past, Will was reminded of his earlier thoughts concerning Jack possibly hallucinating. If a blind man heard the voice of Bootstrap Bill's son, might that blind man, lost in a nightmare of sightlessness, mistake one William for another? Jack's condition was far from the improving Turner had been hoping on. The speed of his reaction was no match for how swiftly the Captain collapsed to the unforgiving ground once more. He attempted to buffer the fall with a catch, failed, and had to resort to at least making sure Jack didn't continue the fall straight to his back. Will rose, interlaced his arms under the arms of the tamed cripple, ever doubt about taking charge vanquished - it was inevitable. Jack needed Will now, despite how horribly unacceptable that might be for the Captain to need anyone. Sh, Jack. Don't speak. You're slaughtering yourself. Will said none, the quiet and complete control of a craftsman resurfacing. Will's youthful and liquid strength drew Jack to standing, next, that strength helped him tackle the sparse steps separating them from the tub, which beckoned to the injured villain with its offering of relief. Will crouched elfishly in front of his captain, keeping a sturdy grip on the other mans' legs to prevent another potentially harmful tumble. He discarded the remains of Sparrow's clothing, numb to his feelings, so buried and guarded, eyes lidded, determined - unable to absorb anything but unease, apprehensive. What if Jack really was doomed to be so helpless for good? Thoughts like these wouldn't allow for the pure adoration of another's displayed body.... Well, maybe one or two. Sh, Jack. Don't. Just don't hurt yourself anymore. William didn't care if the man didn't like it, he used his fingers in silent language to suggest Jack cross over into the tub now. It was safe there. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Even without words, he understood those fingers, and his now naked body--heavy feeling and more tired than it ought be--took the suggestion and he moved slowly to the tub. There was no absurd sway to his walk, now, but somehow that didn't stop his hips from being obvious when he moved. It just came natural to the captain, it seemed. Much like breathing. Lips remained shut, as if he knew that talking wasn't doing him a lot of good, and his mouth remained in a straight, nearly stoic line. Tension was displayed on both the lines of his mouth and the position of his shoulders. Blacksmiths' arms felt safe and warm around his own, and so he stopped when Will urged him to--hands moving out cautiously to intercept the side of the tub so that he wouldn't trip. Not that he didn't trust William to stop him from any such folly--it was just his way to show some amount of independence. Grimy fingers moved to touch the water with some amount of curiosity--as if he wouldn't believe it was truly there until he could touch it. "It is warm here," he commented, his words still just a tad off, even if they did make sense. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Pushes aside the crumpled remains of Jack's clothing, making room for himself to sit beside the large basin. Sitting, his tall height allowed for one elbow to curve to the edge of the tub and support him in a thoughtful lean. There was no bothering with rolling his sleeve up out of the way, when his own fingers skimmed the water for the temperature, the clothing he wore was dampened and clinging wetly to his wrist. Despite being thoughtful, the boy managed to keep perfectly alert to Jack's movements, attuned to the wavery balance, poised to aid - but rather Jack was the one to submerge himself, it would do Jack good to slowly regain confidence in his own body, lower his self in. Now Will was only debating, would it be safe to peel the blindfold off yet? Even if it was only to replace it with one much more clean? His mustached lip was touched with moist pink pad. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack kept silent, allowing all of his attention to be fixed on getting into that tub. Damned if he just asked for help without knowing he could actually do it or not. One leg into the basin, and he was forced to pause for a moment, it would do no good for him to fall completely over the pool by miscalculation. Burned fingertips felt cautiously at the side of the pool, doing the math in his head before he actually stepped all the way in again. His head tilted to the side slightly, as if he were thinking things through. Finally though, he had managed a sitting position in that pool--it'd left him panting and moaning in pain, but he'd done it. The water was delightfully refreshing against his burned, and fevered skin, though, and so he could find no real reason to complain about the moment. He wet his lips with his tongue after a moment while his hands sifted through the water--as if looking for the real side of the tub--something to lean against. 

**- - - William - - -:**      The light illuminated the water to a silver and gold sparkle, enveloping around the pirate, as though he were destined to drown in treasure. Will Turner allowed for a brief inter lapse of time where Jack could just absorb the appeasing cure of bathing. Once he was satisfied with the man's adjustments, he forged on with his work; only a few sparse curls loosened from their tie were adhering to his temples and over creased brow. Cupping a pool of water in his palm, he wet a cleansing cloth and delivered it to Jack by bringing it to the back of the man's grimed fingers. Though, he idly wondered if Jack would make any attempt at getting rid of any of the dirt on himself, if he had never sought to do this prior to now. Meanwhile, the doctor's inspection would begin, starting with the most severe wound. "Jack." It was time to warn. "Just relax, don't open them." Deft fingers slipped free a blindfold's knot, and the strap's tightness was released.... free to be unpeeled. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack turned his hand to receive the wet cloth, but did no more than receive it. Wet digits clung to the bit of cloth then, as Will went to work at untying the binding around his eyes and face. Don't open them, the boy had said, and so he tried his hardest not to. Even with the pressure of the tight bandage being lightened, his face still burned. It hurt, he admitted to himself--fingers around the washcloth twitching slightly. His other hand, though, made way for his face, sliding gently up his own cheek to meet the bandaging there. Damned thing. He made no further move to take it away though--lest he get a proverbial (or maybe very literal) slap at the wrist from young William. 

**- - - William - - -:**      When Will dressed Jack's wound three days ago, it had been a sight to cringe from. Quite a good thing that Jack had been unconscious from the explosion's blast, for his eyes had been seared with black ash, scalded, even beading with drops of blood between the fans of Jack's sienna brown lashes. And after the wound had been cleaned, medicated and given three days to heal, one could only hope there would be some progress in the recovery. Will gingerly separated the cloth from shielding those haunting Captain's eyes, baring the wound for inspection. What he saw brought relief, a breath puffed out from between parted lips - had he been holding that breath? For how long? Yes, Jack's condition had improved. The swelling was gone, the few scrapes and cuts around his lids were sealed, not one of them would leave a scar. Jack was an infinitely lucky man, escaping death with the effortless, slipperiness of an eel. There was still the showings of a scorching burn, but that was to be expected. The skin was hued red, tender. Will inspected, leaning partially over the tub to hover above Jack enough to see clearly in the dim light. Humming once in affirmation. "Mhm. Mmm." 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Eyelids twitched ever so slightly, and Jack bit his bottom lip in a fight to stay in concentration. It would not do to open his eyes just now. He wanted to--badly--but he wouldn't. The fresh air around his face was almost painful, but at the same time a simple pleasure. Eyebrows rose at Will's noises (which rather hurt, he noticed. The movement was stretching the skin, and moving wounds that had been set still for three days now--hands clenched that cloth until his fingers hurt and his knuckles went white. "Wot?" Came the apprehensive questioning from the Captain's mouth. Worry was fixed on his mouth, and his head was tilted slightly to the side. Dark inklings of hair that were only partially wetted from the water fell down his back, tickling shoulder blades. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Oh yes, Will saw that worry etched to Jack's mouth, for that mouth had never actually been closer, never been more reachable - or simply captivating, even if they were tense with concern and dread, the lips were far too mischievous to loose their rakishly appealing draw. Will's voice melted into a raspy, low timbre, his throat constricted. "Its..." And what exactly was it he had been speaking of? The expressive boy's brows furrowed deeply in his own confusion. "Its healing, Jack. Needs time." At least he still spoke with confidence, for he had seen burns like this before, had even had a burn nearly this bad in the beginning of his training, of course, he had never gone through the horror of a burn to the eyes. And immediately felt a knife twisted in his gut for thinking about Jack's mouth when the man was obviously suffering. Will found the salve with one hand, the other, carefully took the edge of Sparrow's bristled jaw to hold it steady, tilting the man's chin up a little more to align them face to face. The greasy tip of a forefinger smoothed over the injury, but Will wasn't exactly as delicate as a woman nurse might be, and his finger's callousness would sometime inflict mild pain. "Be still." Close enough that his words would pulse warm air against Jack's mouth and their breath would mingle. Will was deep in concentration, eyes narrowed with focus. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Will's demand for stillness was a damned difficult one to follow. Inhaling sharply at the feel of the Blacksmiths' hands on that wound, the captain of the Black Pearl jerked backward, not that it did him much good, as his bare back was already flat against the side of the tub. Eyelids twitched, and then opened by reflex, and mostly all by accident. It was all very dark for a second, and then the fire and the light all felt as if it was searing its' way into Jack's eyes, leaving the rest of the world--which seemed to only be William's face--blurred and swimming--and most of all, very unintelligible. With a strangled kind of yelp his eyes shut themselves again, painfully pressing closed until even the black seemed to be moving around him. He swayed in his sitting position, hands having totally forgotten the washcloth, and now frantically searching out the nearest handhold. Which appeared to be William himself. Pained fingers were fixed onto the other mans' sleeved arms, fingernails digging sharply into the cloth to find something "real" to cling to. He said no words but his breathing was quick and pained--his teeth, both gold and cream, biting hard onto his lower lip--enough to make it bleed, it seemed. 

**- - - William - - -:**      The sudden outburst shattered Will's concentration - nearly causing him to loose his balance and land in the narrow tub onto he convulsing Pirate villain. He somehow caught his hands on the rim of the tub before falling. He should have foreseen something like this coming, Jack would never be able to resist testing his sight, there was no blaming him. Will could only be witness to his patient's painful attack; those jerking ringed fingers clutched his arms, making his shirtsleeves soggy. But of course, most of him was already splashed now. He didn't notice in the least. Will could only see the anguish on Jack's face, he could only hear the frenzy of panted breathing, could only feel that rough yank at his chest to ease, to comfort, to mend - how could he lift Jack from the throes of his torture? With his own swordsman perfect balance restored, Will's hands swiftly came to Jack's face, taking either side of it firmly but not painfully, or so he tried at least. "Damnit, Sparrow." He hissed, not frustration, but merely the release of his panic. "Relax." Barely spoken, Will reacted without thought, on pure instinct, mindlessly desperate to take away the agony of Jack's eruption. He covered the gap of his Captain's heavily panting mouth with his own, but the electric shock of the contact brought Will's rationality back and he wordlessly separated -reeling in shock. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Still bleeding lips parted half way in some amount of shock, but it seemed that William's initial plan to get Jack's mind off the searing pain had mostly succeeded. Breathing was still out of pattern, but not nearly as strained now, and hands that had been gripped onto Will's sleeves to the point of brining pain, loosened drastically. His rum and pain numbed mind fought to think of something to say--something to -think-. Knees were drawn upward toward his chest in a very insecure sort of gesture and those fingers spasmed against Will's arms once. Though his eyes were clamped together tightly yet (not the best idea, either, as he seemed to be disrupting the wounds), his mouth was in an impassive line. He didn't want to show what he was feeling. A bizarre mixture of pain, curiosity and lust. "That was...interesting." He finally managed to gasp out. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will's attempt to comfort Jack Sparrow only awarded him with his very own tormenting pain, blood roared through his ears, but most of it was rushing to the erection that surged against the drawn strings at the front of his trousers. He could feel the dumb founded expression on his face, could feel the alarm in his own eyes and fingers withdrew from the tub in a numb terror. Will had not truly thought of his action before performing it, he had been hit with it out of nowhere the same way the blind had. Briefly, the youth grasped at the hope that perhaps it hadn't actually happened, but a bead of copper salt tainted the edge of his mouth. Jack's blood. Proof. Will longed to shrink up, get up and out of here, somewhere he could think of Elizabeth, think of any woman; pretend that the simple connection of his mouth against Jack's hadn't aroused him to this throbbing level. He forced himself to regain faint-hearted composure, heavily rasping in his panic. He started to speak and suddenly, his cowardly fright became anger, scowling blackly. "It got you to fucking calm down, didn't it?" 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      If Jack had been expecting any sort of answer, the one that Will had just given him was the farthest from it. He managed to tell himself that it was just his fevered mind and pain that made him feel so disappointed in the response of the blacksmith. "Oh," Said Jack lightly, his eyes still squeezed shut, and mouth fighting to stay in a straight line. "Aye." Long digits suddenly felt very lost on the wrinkled cloth of William's shirt, and so he let go of the other man--his hands dropping back down into the water there. He swayed then, his head feeling very light and fuzzy. He said no more; he just tilted back in forth (mostly unaware) in the warmth of the water. At least it was warm though--there was one thing that he could depend on for a while longer. With the concentration it took to keep himself sitting up mostly straight, his face was no longer controlled. Bloody mouth turned downward, hovering in-between a pout and a frown. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Will was so filled with anger and confusion toward himself, he couldn't register that Jack's expression had almost looked longing for a brief and helpless second. Just the very words that Jack had said were heard as taunting and cruel to Will's ears, having expected Jack, even in blind state, to have made some crack about Will's weaknesses. What he couldn't understand is why the words had not been aimed to stab at his pride, but instead had been signals of a far different aim. Would it have mattered, if Jack was willing or not, to the struggling young man at this point, when his response to the taste of Sparrow's open mouth was impossible to neglect? Would it have stopped him from guiding dripping fingers to the column of a burnt bronze throat and cutting off Jack's escape for the second kiss, crashing down like the crest of a high wave, desperate, but also, horribly slow and questioning. Will cut his body off from his mind, the two no longer were allowed to connect and hinder what was being demanded by urges. Inebriated not on rum, but on a far worse drug, the intoxicating Captain Jack Sparrow. This time, Will didn't disconnect. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Bloodied lips pressed tightly against the invading set that were upon his own. Wet hands trembled with more than tipsy pain as they moved--cautiously, carefully and a just a tad clumsily at the same time--to touch Will's cheek which was oh-so-close to his own. He wished that he could see, just then. That he didn't have to fight to keep his concentration on keeping those eyes shut as his attention was on something much more grand right in front of him. A small moan of surprise and pleasure escaped his mouth, but Will's lips muffled the noise. Jack's other hand was clinging to the side of the tub; knuckles turned white with the effort of being still like that. He didn't dare let go though, for fear of drowning. And perhaps not necessarily in the water, either. Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow shivered, then. 

**- - - William - - -:**      That eager pressure on his mouth was being returned and the aghast shock that Sparrow was contributing never fully registered to stop Will. He had purely abandoned all of that 'thinking' business for some other time and rode that instinctively primal, continuously connected, torrent of lust. With no more fear of Jack trying to escape him, one of the blacksmith's sinewy arms left his partner's neck and reached aimlessly for something to leverage himself closer, but the fingers slipped and dived directly into the tub, sinking his arm up to the shoulder in water, the disturbed splash that was produced rose up and drenched the rest of the rigid body hovering half over Jack. There was no way to tell what he did first, climb the rest of the way into the long narrow basin, full clothed, or sink his tongue into the center of Jack's mouth, seeking the divine core of that forbidden fruit. All of it was muddled into one wild storm in Will's mind. The only way to survive it was ride it out. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Well, Jack would assume it was both at once--he was being rightly impaled by Will's tongue, and almost crawled on top of at the same time. He couldn't find any reason to complain as of yet--though the back of his mind was wishing for the eye bandaging again so that there wouldn't be any more mistakes with opening those orbs up in a moment of surprise. The Captain sunk down lower into the tub, hands easily finding Will's waist and resting there for only a moment before they began tugging weakly at the very wet shirt that still clung to the blacksmith turned pirates' chest. He may not have been able to see it, but he felt it. And he rightly decided that it needed to be gone from the boy. A gasp was let out into Will's mouth as Jack brushed his own tongue over the one that was nearly down his throat. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Fortunately, the shirt had already been released of its buttons earlier, a simple matter of straightening his arms took the shirt away, most likely to a soggy wet heap slung over a table or chair. The trousers, however, were going be a far more tricky maneuver to discard. Will brought his knees to either side of the narrow tan hips of Sparrow, not as simple as it sounds, nearly slipping on the smoothly curved floor of the basin. This posture did free one hand to fervently work the laces binding his trousers, binding that greedily raging part of him. For good measure, and to ensure the lip lock not be broken, Will left one hand braced on the tub beside Jack's shoulder. He wouldn't even release the kiss for a moment, for what was happening within it was immediately and thoroughly addictive. Jack's taste, heat, the texture of colliding tongues, click of teeth when one of them strained to reach for more, take more, and the sharp thrill of Jack gasping of sucking breath through a gap in their melded lips - Will was intent to feed his new hunger for the Captain of the Black Pearl. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Sight didn't seem so important when one was kissing, the back of Sparrow's mind managed to leak out. And it was true--a person always closed their eyes when kissing. So just now, Jack was just as good as anyone else. Maybe better, actually, as he had a beautiful boy undressing on top of him in a bathtub. Interesting wasn't the word for it, even. Exciting may have been a little better of a word. There were no pant straps or ties to hold him down now, it seemed, though he wasn't paying a lot of attention to himself. His hands were slowly making their way up Will's now bare chest, nimble fingers seemingly wanting to take in all the details. After all, if he couldn't remember by sight, he'd be damned if he didn't at least make an effort to recall by touching. Not quite as dirty as before fingernails scraped upward across the blacksmith's chest. 

**- - - William - - -:**      By the time the finger nails grazed and scrawled over the plane of Will's chest, marking him like territory, two thirds of the water had been sloshed free over the tub and beyond, sponging into the wooden floorings and scattered debris of thrown clothing. Will felt the haze, like first rising vibrations of too much hard drink - a rare thing for Will to ever experience. He was feeling it now. Not drunk on alcohol. He was deep into the fuzzy grasp of a fire glowing against his back and secret pleasure taken under him. Of course, that freedom of loosing it. Loosing control. That could be quite mind-numbing as well. Hard to stop. Harder not to love. And the lace of trousers gave way under his tug, with only the faint, bitten down grunt of the effort lost in Jack Sparrow's mouth. Vaguely aware that he shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't be pushing this hard to someone who needed recovering with sleep - not with over exertion. Hard to stop. Harder not to love. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      It was difficult to concentrate on breathing--he didn't want to pull away, and even if he did, there was really no room to do it in--his back was against the side of the tub, and Will seemed to be everywhere. Mouth parted farther open, to receive more of Williams's lips and tongue, even as he took in a sharp breath. Long and loose digits finally stopped their roaming--deciding to rest on Will's shoulders. Both for support (though why the blind man needed any, with Will above and tub below, not even he was sure) and so that he could be fully aware of what the man was doing. His leg rose up, knee touching Will's lower stomach--and shin finding a bit of a surprise there. A small gasp left velvet lips, and the back of his mind laughed at him for being so completely innocent in the moment. It wasn't like him, to be so not in control. Then again, take Jack Sparrow, add a fever and blindness, and maybe it all -would- add up to a submissive man. His head tilted a little backward, allowing Will more flexibility. 

**- - - William - - -:**      The lithe agility of the younger allowed for his spine to curl in shock without pain, except that sharp, aching pleasure/agony elicited by the shin's textured scrape over a presently ultra sensitive evidence of lust. Gripping the basin's rim had become a more difficult task when you were balancing yourself and stifling the lack of confidence that someone so accustomed to perfectly ordinary displays of affection might feel now. This was quite a bit west of ordinary and Will was playing it by ear and refusing to be embarrassed by his own rasped breath over Jack's willing mouth. Head bowing forward to conjure up enough concentration to undress completely, It seemed so important, crucial to all of this, to being with Jack, sharing Jack. And the bowed head sunk to meet and momentarily rest on the deeply sun soaked skin of his Captain's brow. A pained grimace, rolling his waist into the long limb of Sparrow's leg. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Fingernails sunk into the Blacksmith's shoulder blades, tearing the skin and making small bloodied crescent moon marks there. Eyes were still forcefully shut--as though he feared to open them--not wanting to risk another moment of such horrible pain--it honestly wouldn't do to pass out beneath young William Turner. Jack's ego would never live it down--even if he did have an excuse. "William," There was no real reason for saying the boys' name. He just...well, it seemed appropriate. His own hips struggled to rise from the floor of the basin--to touch and grind against Will's own. Shaky and weak as his body was, he really wasn't doing a bad job of succeeding in said goal. Hands trembled and held tighter to their grips on the boys' shoulders. 

**- - - William - - -:**      No. No. No. His name. Hearing his own name might shake him from this primal thoughtless drunkenness. It may drag an unwelcome reality into the emptying water bowl. No. He would cling on to this jeopardizing exploit into lewd behavior - after all, wasn't this ship full of people, couldn't one of them jaunt in at any crude moment? Wasn't that all the more exciting? Will wasn't through until he'd worshiped Jack into the floor, tub, desk, bed - it didn't matter where in location - those places were all just earthly places. And this was something far beyond earthly places. This was elemental. Fire. Water. And Will was immediately terrified to hear his name, but the sheer breathlessness in which it was so gratefully purred forth in a gush, a groan - that sound of 'William' cascading from Jack's wily tongue - that was all to delicious and beautiful A groaned name that sent a silver lightning electric vein down his back. He was afraid to hear it again, and made his point clear by cutting off the word with kiss that melded into Will's bite at Jack's bruised lip. But the tub was just no good, it just wouldn't allow for enough of what was intended and Will reared back, dripping arms trembling, hips pinning Jacks with an excruciatingly good accuracy, applying the pressure that both of them wanted there. Still not enough. Will's hair has mostly fallen free of its tie at this point and hangs around him as he pants above Jack. "Here?" 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Fuck," murmured the pirate Captain of the Black Pearl--and not without feeling. It was breathy, as if it had taken much effort just to say that one word. Hips rubbed as roughly as he could muster (which really wasn't all that rough, the back of his mind decided for him) against Will's own, and his fingers twitched against the other mans arms. He wanted this. Maybe his mind wasn't fully there--but then again, when had it been? He wanted William. He had for so long now. He couldn't even keep track. "Anywhere," He finally replied-- numbed mind not extremely sure it ever fully understood the boys question. Face rose upward slightly, and his bruised lips turned upward into something of a small smile--feeling Will's soaked hair against his cheeks. It was... good. 

**- - - William - - -:**      And that was probably the last fleeting wisps of William Turner's rational mind, the mind that said get out of the empty tub like a good man. But he wasn't a good man, he was a pirate, and he wasn't in the throes of dominating a courted girl, he was falling with a heavy inertia, into the seductive trap that Jack had started to weave for him far before Will had ever become a pirate himself. A weaved trap. Yes. A seized prey. Yes. But Jack was cruel and sadistic that way. He wouldn't chase a goal, no no, he'd emanate waves of sultry intrigue and his eyes would spark with a black diamond glitter of pure fiendish Sex until the object of his desire was lunging after him in bathtubs. Jack didn't chase, but he did win in that inevitable final score. That was the last of Will's fleeting, traditional set of thinking. They would do this, and it would be here. And damn if they wouldn't be sore as hell from bucking against the cushion-less wagon of the tub - but it was the one and true best place, it was sheer spontaneity, wild and moronic - but perfect. And Will was on a roll again, guiding his fingers over Jack's throat and chest and abdomen, for his tongue and teeth to follow. And he was straddling Jack with a long, drawn out forward grind and exploring what he could, tasting a sienna tan nipple. What would happen if... he nibbled. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack was lost to the world now--fully and completely. Mind mixed with both pleasure and pain so acute, it was difficult to decide which was more prominent. He gave in to the pleasure, and not the pain though. He writhed beneath William's teeth and fingers and tongue, bloodied lips letting out soft moans and quick gasps; his eyes squeezed together more harshly, and it had nothing to do with vision or lack thereof. Hands lost their grips, long and almost delicate digits twitched and moved until they found a better place to be--- left hand found the top of Will's head and took hold of the wet hair there--it tangled between his ring adorned fingers, and he tugged not quite so softly. Right hand rested low on Williams' hip, seemingly fascinated with the curve of the bone there, as it stroked back and forth casually, all the while pressuring that hip farther downward to meet his own again. As before stated--Jack didn't go to what he pursued. It came to -him-. Damned if he wouldn't get his way, even now. An unconscious decision, but one that he made none the less. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Today Will could be wild, Will could do the unexpected, Will could relish the flavor hiding in the creases of Jack's abdomen muscles - today. Only tomorrow was reserved for that Will who was reserved, who didn't pounce, who didn't skate his rough palms up Jack Sparrow's thighs, slide craftsman digits beneath them, into the shallow remains of that toasted water. Tomorrow he wouldn't be someone who lifts his Captain's knee in a liquid suggestion to hook it over the edge of the tub, he wouldn't be someone who glides the brother to that first knee over his sharply angled shoulder, for heel to press a pleasant weight against the middle of his back. Will leisurely rolled his head toward the inside of that knee, catching a scar there with a kiss, an exploration of licking over the evidence of some long ago battle? He produced a jumpy yelp when Jack's hand at his hip, pushing, finally got him to slip, loose enough balance that his chest leans its full weight over Jack's rigid throbbing. Something needed to be done; he uses his fallen status to slide farther down. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Silver and gold adorned fingers held onto Will's dark (almost black with the wet) hair, hand clenching, and pulling on it to a point that must have been at least slightly painful for the boy. But it couldn't be helped--Jack tilted his head back, neck curving on the edge of the tub, leaving his head feeling weightless. He let out a soft moan at the feeling of Will rubbing up against his erection so harshly--but a good kind of harsh, his mind sang out in amusement. Right hand moved again, but this time his hand just dangled loosely at his wrist, not able to even think of a good place to put it again. True, tomorrow was another day (one that Will seemed to be promising himself prudence with), but Jack never truly changed. Tomorrow he would be stronger, if all went right. More demanding. He would crave more attention, and expect it above all else. Too bad, William Turner. You maybe not have started the game, but you agreed to participate. Now, it seemed they were playing for keeps. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Despite great effort, Will had thought of this moment. He had not only imagined taking Jack Sparrow, but he had conceived this very act in that dark sinful and shameful space in the back of his mind and in the occasional wet dream. However, this was no subconscious conjuring - Jack really did taste thoroughly sharp, the brine of salt air and sea, leather. Or at least that is how that flat stretch of hips tasted, that dive between the bone and Jack's propped legs. Perhaps there was more to taste, more that wasn't describable by spices or conventional flavors. Perhaps an essence that was only Jack, and could only be described as this. Will drew Jack toward the slow hiss of steamed breath, and with one sweep of pink pad, drag of tip over tip, Will was convinced that every flavor was Jack, and that every food and drink he ever consumed again - would be Jack, his taste buds tattooed. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack gasped, his spine arching upward as Will's seemingly shameless tongue moved in all the right spots--licking, tasting, whatever he was doing, it was heaven to the Captain. Rings tangled between the boys hair, making it difficult for him to move his hand, yet he managed anyway. Thin digits slipped free of the dark tendrils and moved down his face--both feeling the beauty there (since he could full well not actually look), and just enjoying the touching. Thumb moved over the blacksmiths' lips--which were busy--for a moment, and then moved back up to rest on his temple--as if preparing to be in a position to keep William where he wanted him. Not that he wasn't already, but Jack wasn't exactly the most coherent fellow around, anyhow. Small moans and gasps escaped soft velvet lips, but no actual words were formed there (per request of young Turner, himself!). 

**- - - William - - -:**      That part of Jack he desired was dragged in by the coil of that teasing tongue, that brush that fanned over the palette of silky, pearlescent sheened flesh, with all the aesthetic appreciation of an artist, prepared and eager to start worshipping beauty. And that was what he was doing, worshipping. He engulfed Jack with the thin, greedy lips, lips that had smiled so readily upon the notion of adventure alongside his good Captain. With those petals, he intimately discovered each patch of spot that sent the body under him into a writhe. He sought out the spots that made his good prize tense, and just as acutely found the site of a lick that would make his vulnerable Jack relax again. Particularly fond of those said spots, just able to achieve them with a blazing caress, while drowning Jack's body and lapping, happily triumphant over getting this far, all the evidence of Jack's approval. After all, hadn't Will always yearned for that approval? Hadn't the importance of every victory eventually dwindled down to whether Jack was impressed with him or not? It had been. And now, he had possibly found something for Jack to be proud of. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Eyes fought to remain closed while the rest of his body was both tensed and relaxed at the same time, his free hand found his way to his own mouth, and he bit down there, as if to avoid making too much noise--or perhaps to try and muffle it all-together. His legs--placed over both tub and Will's sharp shoulder blade-- managed to move so that his hips could buck forward softly. Too soft William. Too gentle. You're killing me. "Fuck," he muttered out again—his hand seemingly doing no good at muffling anything. His other fingers dug slightly into the side of Will's forehead, as if urging him to keep up the work--or maybe pick up the pace. 

**- - - William - - -:**      But Will was sharply aware that a swifter tempo was what those spidery Captain fingers were suggesting. All the more reason to torment - for once stripping Jack of his power to control. While here, guiding the lover's pleasure through lifting hills and valleys of kisses and swallows, Will was the one with authority, the right to stop, speed up, or just meticulously travel Jack's length to savor and enjoy. This was a momentary domination he wasn't ready to relinquish, and one he was fully prepared to abuse. If Jack would insist on urging, Will would send the message by straightening his elbows enough to lift mouth away from the pulsing length, scraping with blunt bottom teeth along the way, and merely panting on it from a few inches hover above. It wasn't easy to lift his head up to spot Jack's face; the man's fingers were twined and raked savagely into his long hair, claiming a painful reign over Turner. He grinned through his panting, waiting for Jack to writhe and protest the separation and emit one of those shameless moans. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      William seemed to have predicted Jack's response correctly, as it were. His hand moved from his mouth--soft lips already letting out a soft noise that was between a moan and a plead for the man to go on with his work. The bite abused hand moved--attempting to find the other side of William's face; most likely getting the idea that he could force the man's mouth back down to where Jack Sparrow firmly believed it belonged. "Will," he uttered out--much too distracted for once to use the boy's birth given name. He squirmed then, in an almost childish fashion--a tempter tantrum of sorts--body shuddering at the sudden lack of attention. 

**- - - William - - -:**      The squirm and mewled entreaty was silenced by blacksmith's calloused palms, smoothing over and re-flattening the lifted tan hips to the tub's slippery floor. These pinned the hips down for William's tiger pounce and the start of that second round. Each sound encouraged him to go on, with more vigor, even more speed. The occasional tremble of that knee hooked over his shoulder translated to Will that he was on the right track, his own arousal making itself fitfully evident, and when he discovered a new purpose for the long neck of his, swallowing Jack half way and then to the base, he was taken in the grasp of his own groan, a vibration surrounding Jack in all directions. Will's fingers leaving the indents of bruises on the sharp hipbones beneath them. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Eyelids tried their hardest not to flutter at the feelings going on around him. Hands holding his hips down with such force that he knew that spot would hurt in the morning (not that it'd matter much, along with the other list), hot mouth around his erection; teasing and licking. It was almost more than the wily Captain could handle. Fingers twitched at William's temples and his breath came out in short little gasps intertwined with moans. His mind did not make any connection between his own moans and the way that Will increased his fervor when he made them. His mind wasn't thinking or noticing a lot at the moment. It just knew -something- felt really damned nice. "William," he all but pleaded out, head tilting farther backward--mouth half open, as if he just didn't have enough sense to close those soft lips of his--and back arching farther upward. Not being in charge was both a godsend and a curse at the same time, it seemed. Hardness twitched in Will's mouth, just a tad, clearly spelling out the fact that the injured captain wouldn't last that much longer. Which didn't seem to be such a bad thing--at least not to Jack. 

**- - - William - - -:**      There was that confliction again. At one moment, he had not wanted to hear his own name on Jack's mouth, reminding him of who he was supposed to be - a proper, if not polite pirate, blacksmith who, even though he had gone as far as to kill his fellow man a few times, would still never ever succumb to the temptation of this unthinkable forbidden fruit. He had not wanted to be Will, had wanted only to be with Jack, as someone uncharacteristically primal to equal the Captain's untamed self. But that was gone now, to hear his name shouted was the prime goal, to hear it announced to the entire ship, to every ear. To shake the Pearl and rouse every sleeping mate aboard. Will had gone full circle, now it was crucial to rip that name from Jack, so no one forgot, even if they wanted too, for surely Will would be one of those people who would want to forget in the morning light - but would be unable, because that cry would still be planted into the walls of this room, ringing with it. The boy found a method better than sheer speed, he was perfectly direct with each lick, narrowing in on the single most sensitive patch and attacking it over in a never ending connected roll of warm, moist abyss, occasionally the return of teeth that grazed a vein or a shuddering groan triggered by the appreciative way Jack was roaming his scalp or temples. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      A shuddering breath was drawn in quickly, and Jack's fingers gripped Will's hair again--pulling tightly at the dark curls. Bruised lip was bitten hard again, sadly, causing it to reopen and bleed anew. But he didn't even notice that. He was just trying not to scream--after all, if he was being forced to be the submissive one, he was going to put up some small fight. Though his eyes were closed and all was dark, he could sworn at a later date that he was seeing colors. It was all very dazzling, he decided somewhere in the back of his mind. But that's all that came to mind as he succumbed to full ecstasy and let his body take reign of the matter. 

**- - - William - - -:**      There was the sensation of surprise that came along with your first time committing this particular act, admittedly a small amount surprise, but only at first and Will quickly adapted, finding that the tremors of this sinewy creature climaxing was a reward and a terribly high boost to an ego that Will had never earned in any other skill beside swordsmanship. Perhaps he had found a new craft. The complete workings and expertise of possessing Jack Sparrow sounded like an intriguing trade. He devoured everything that his ill patient could give, and more besides, swallowing and cleaning what residue tainted his lips, without caring about those tendrils of release that had dipped down to his chin and stood out against the dark coloring of bristle there. Only then, after all this was complete, did he register the pain of the yanking fingers, a murred protest concerning those tugged roots, the boy slid his shoulder out from under Jack's leg and melted his head onto Jack's stomach, not a good place to sleep, since the Captain's torso was heaving with that downward spiral of panting to cool himself. But it was a good place to just rest a second and try not to think how a spontaneous, basically accidental impulsive kiss could lead here, to knowing the complete taste of what Jack was made of. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      It was almost positively a purr that was coming from Jack's own throat. His head tilted to the side (eyes still shut a little too tightly), and fingers almost abashedly loosening their claimed grip on Will's silky yet wet hair. He didn't fully let go of the man's hair. Fingers absently--almost lovingly-- stroked at the spots that he'd been tugging--as if in silent apology. His stomach still rising and falling in that over-exerted manner. It was rather difficult to manage with William's weight there, however. "William," he panted out again--not sure himself if he was going to tell the man that the extra weight hurt his fevered and burned chest, or if he just wanted to say the word again. William, William, William. That was the only word present in the clouded part of his mind--the only thing that really registered. 

**- - - William - - -:**      His arms seemed to float weightlessly on either side of the pirate under him, finally without the strain of holding himself up over Jack. It was purely selfish of him not to realize he was inflicting pain at first, but as soon as the hoarse title was breathed weakly again in that sultry coo of Jack's voice, Will's depleted awareness returned and he even slipped clumsily on the smooth inside of the tub to find a holding and separate from the man. He recoiled up and back, regretfully loosing the peaceful coaxing treatment of spidery digits to his curls. He sunk back against the other end of the basin, long arms thrown out over the sides, nearly reaching the floor on either side of tub. His legs remained partially twined with Jack's, but nothing short of getting out of the tub could help that - there just wasn't enough room for two men, unless they were overlapping. Will felt the tide of guilt's pain break over him, and though he suddenly had the urge to examine Jack, with that bleeding pirate mouth and over worked beautiful burned body, Will couldn't even look at him at all right now, wincing eyes shut, forehead creased under the pressure of those arrow straight brows pushing together in concern. God. Jack. Did I hurt you? What have I done? Where did I go? "Are you okay?" It hurt to talk, to hear his own voice. The finale proof that yes, it was him. Really him. He wasn't just lost in some dream. It had been done. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack moved then, himself---slow and slightly pained gestures--to a sitting position in the tub--the small amount of water that was left there swished softly as he moved. His hands held the side of the tub, as though he was trying to keep his balance (or maybe he just didn't know what else to do with them for the time being?), and he shifted so that he was once again leaned flush against the side of the tub. "You didn't hurt me, if that's what you mean," came his reply--he hadn't really thought of the response; that was just what came out. His own mind heard it at the same time as William did. It approved of the answer. After all, to say "Aye, I'm dandy," just didn't seem the best of ideas. He -wasn't- dandy. He was getting bruised, blind and shaky. But he'd gotten a damned fine blow job (and perhaps a claiming lover) out of the whole deal, so who was he to complain that it was maybe getting a little cold in the room again? The fuzzy bit of his mind told him if he got that cold, he could just pretend to slip and fall back into William's warmth. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need to pretend. 

**- - - William - - -:**      But Will was already chilled, not even the tempting vision of that Pirate thief, dazed from sex, could extinguish the encroaching sense of having done something wrong. Will, suddenly feeling very young, was overcome by this confusion over having let himself be free enough to act on Jack's wicked allure; an allure that could not even be masked by the pain wracking his injured body. Oh. Fuck. He had taken comforting Jack too far, hadn't he? Will's expression was blackly cloaked in the shadow of shame; it had been impossible to stop once Jack had croaked his name in such delicious pleading, but now - the consequences? He was already somehow untangling and climbing free of the basin --making more noise with his steps than his own voice, which seemed to have been swallowed up in some cavern of embarrassment. Hair hanging around his face, skin flushed, he was a guilty-looking site. And rifling through clothes, he found one of the heavy blankets instead and reached over to take Jack's hand, for balance - it was time to get out. Even if you're now dirtier than when you went in. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack's fingers curled around Will's hand--slightly tense now that all the action was over. He could sense that Will was upset, but couldn't for the life of himself figure out why. His mind was too off to allow true reasoning, and so he was just left guessing. He moved shakily to a standing position, knees threatening to give out on him as he stepped over the side of the tub and onto cool wooden floorboards again. And although he didn't want to admit it to himself, his grip on Will's hand tightened as he did so. The world swam once he was in a fully upright position, and he swayed in place, squeezing his eyes shut more tightly than he should have been. It was probably making things worse, because it really didn't feel all too pleasant, now that he focused on it. Bloody lips parted, allowing a slow and slightly lost question to escape from there. "William…?" That seemed to be the only word he could think to mutter on this night. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Indeed, just as Will had prophesied, the temperature had plummeted with the sun's disappearance into the ocean. Only the furnace could keep a tolerable heat in the quarters and even it was now smoldering low, only flickering embers fading after it's former blazing peak. Just as his own peak of fire had passed, and now Will too, was fading into himself. That echo of his name, it had also been prophesied. Only instead of the wall shivering cries, it was broken questions that filled that space. Will was the cause of this damage, and he didn't even want to think of repaying for it, trying to do something right for Jack wasn't leading him any where good so far. All he had gotten was a battered patient who was supposed to be in his care. Will draped the water soaking cloth around the expanse of Jack's shoulders and he brought the rest of the blanket around the man securely, somehow brilliantly managing to actually touch Jack as little as possible. He didn't seem concerned with his own state of dampness or chill - occupied with leading Jack to his true bed. Indicating the safety of the bed in a raspy, weak manner. "Its warm here. Sleep, Jack." 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack settled down onto his bed, so that he was in a sitting position. He still seemed to sway though--as if he were on deck during a great storm--hands clutched at the blanket that had been so cleverly wrapped around him. His head tilted to the side, despite the pain it seemed to cause now. "Not yet," he told the blacksmith--some small amount of command coming to his tone. His voice was weak though, and so the effect of his words wasn't quite what he'd hoped for. Instead of talking about what Will was dreading however, Sparrow fully changed the subject. "Don't really want t'ask for this, but it may be best the bandage were replaced." He hadn't wanted to ask. But his fevered mind told him to fight down the shame, because it'd do him better in the middle of the night when he woke up with nightmares. When he'd -try- to snap his eyes open, seeking the light and safety. Ill people did odd things on occasion. At least Jack--hazy in mind or not--knew to try and prevent it. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Once more, Will is reminded of how flustered and shook up he actually had become. The bandage! And without thought, he simply blurted out his first defense, fingers spreading wide at his side. "I had..." intended to.. He didn't finish. Why should he bother? That action would be more productive than upset attempt at excuses. But this time, the boy succeeded in donning some amount of clothes on the trip to the sinfully tainted basin and back. He didn't fasten every button or tie a convincing knot - for he simply desired having the clothes on him to shield away from the cold and somehow retain the body heat. He gathered the bandages, having been up on the desk where they could not get wet and ruined from all the water that had been so successfully emptied over the edges by his very self. But it was impossible to stall any longer; he had to stoke the furnace and located some oil, and a match. This combination illuminated the stove's potbelly gate; just what was needed. Will discovered that if he kept his mind strictly on moving, then the cruel thoughts couldn't punish him. Concentrate on just getting it done. If it was a few hours ago, he would've knelt on the bed to get at a better angle to tie, but now, he was standing and careful not to brush skin or catch fingers in Jack's wild, gorgeously damp hair, like pure black raven in color. The cloth was cool on scalded lids and tied firmly, wont slip off in a nightmare's tumbling. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Pirate of a man sat patiently through the moments of re-bandaging, trying his hardest not to sway or waver in the moment. Long wispy digits played with the edge of the blanket that was slipping free of his shoulders; he was much too weak and tired to even bother attempting to keep the thing wrapped around himself. The two pirates little moment of lust wore him out more than he wanted to admit--which angered him, since he wasn't exactly the sort to tire during that sort of scene. And then, when Will was done tying the bandages (the clean cool wrap feeling both heavy and relieving around his eyes at the same time) Jack's right hand traveled up to clumsily grab 'hold of the blacksmiths. There was a long pause, and then finally he spoke; and surprisingly, it was not the man's name that came from his mouth. It was something uncommon, and mostly unheard of, to say the least. "Thank you." 

**- - - William - - -:**      There was no cause to disentangle from the fingers and permitted them to take and confine his in a twine. Having suspected this contact would produce a cold twisting lurch in his chest, instead, it was quite tame and Will's sharp shoulders rolled with a slump, his chin drawn down toward his chest, hair taking place as a curtain over eyes. Somehow Jack wouldn't hold it against him - and there was a security in that. His Captain was a man loyal to friends, even those who imposed too much, made mistakes, slipped up once in a while. Not many Pirate commanders would do that, not even behind closed doors like this, where no one else had witnessed his false step and tumble into that secretly deviant sex appetite he had. "You'll feel better tomorrow." Will's low timber scantly heard, though he was immensely grateful himself, that was all for the inside. And calloused fingers fell from the slippery tendrils' of Jack's. Hadn't those weak fingers been so fitfully strong moments before, nearly making him voice his pain at the raking of roots. Will's knees shuddered at the recollection. That was passed and the couch, behind the desk and far from the bed, was looking very inviting, even if that was the spot furthest from the furnace, and most cold. After all, he couldn't leave. A blind man and a furnace, remember? Must stay. Protecting Jack seemed to be the theme of the evening and the last four days since seeing that pistol leveled to Jack's head. How far and distant that felt. Was that really us? 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "Aye. Maybe," agreed the shaky pirate Captain of the Black Pearl. Not that he made any move to lie down or sleep, even now that the bandaging had been finished off. His mind was busy, slowly churning through the pain and the fever. Maybe slow at the moment, but his mind was usually something sharp enough that he could -cut- with it. Jeweled hands lay in his lap, and finally an idea came to him. His head moved to the direction in which he assumed Will had gone off to; not like he didn't know where the couch was in his cabin. He knew where -all- of his useless knickknacks were (he adored everything he kept, and he kept everything). "Are you ashamed of me?" He asked then--quite the casual question. Oh, did you like dinner? How's the weather? Are you ashamed of me? Yeah, it was like that. But he waited with near baited breath in that sitting position of his for the answer. 

**- - - William - - -:**      William Turner had been facing the desolate couch when Jack's question choked all air from the room. Still severely conscious of that thickly salted Sparrow flavor lingering in every corner of his mouth, Will's darkly bristled jaw unhinged for lips to fall apart in shock. Before any response could be impulsively rasped out, the boy instantly snapped -- rows of perfectly aligned and gold-less -- teeth together for a 'clack'. His pirate leader's searching words had been uttered with so much smooth composure, Will actually had to stop and seriously question his current comprehension ability. Was his mind truly this shaken? Was Jack really concerned if a mere boy was ashamed of him? _Was_ Will ashamed of him? _Absurd_, the first thought that engulfed his mind. He swung back to somehow convey this message to Jack, brows lifted in a sort of mildly, bewildered urgency. "Are you delirious? You're obviously in worse condition now than you had been." A tall stride effortlessly closed their distance in a breath, Will's hand going to his patient's brow, pressing palm suspiciously to heated surface, expecting the absolute worst and mournfully aware that it was his own fault that Jack had lost so much strength, the strength he needed to recuperate. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      William's hand was decidedly cool against his forehead --and it was completely obvious that Captain Jack Sparrow was fevered. But even he would have admitted that. Delirious, on the other hand, was something he was not; at the moment, anyway. He was completely in control of his questioning. Too tired and weak to bother protesting at Will's silly worried touching, he just sat still (for the most part) and took it. "No worse off," he did argue though--after all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow. Damned if he was going to just sit back and take all the words that were dealt out to him. If he didn't like his hand, he'd make his own. Sick or otherwise. His head tilted to the side--whether he was attempting to brush Will's hand from his brow or if he was swaying would remain unknown to all beside him--and his bruised and bloody lips tilted downward in a semblance of annoyance (and was that a tad bit of hurt there?). "Quite a lot happier, act'ally," his words were drawled out slowly, as if it were getting hard for him to speak. "But you, William, you don't seem better off. Ye're ashamed." There was a momentary pause, as the ill (yet fairly devious seeming) Captain set up his blows with words. "Of me. There's no other explanation." Damn the stubborn boy for making him talk so much--he'd have to work more quickly, lest he pass out from pure exhaustion. Something he did not want to do, by any means. Ringed and slender digits lay flat in his lap, not bothering to move--showing off how truly tired he was. It was a cold day in Hell when Jack's fingers weren't on the move. 

**- - - William - - -:**      To a man without sight, Will's first response was simply that sound of an angry draw of breath, chest inflating, and defensive. His lips drawn together and twisted sourly, brows merged rigidly, sparked with a temper festered by Jack's blunt accusations. What had he expected? Sparrow was always blunt. Subtlety didn't exist to him. This same protective anger had been stirred earlier with the teasing response he had earned from their initial spontaneous lip lock. Will felt he must shield himself against Jack's verbal barbs, for surely, they would strike mercilessly if he let them. But he could be defensive and tell the truth at the same time, and not even his Turner temper could prevent him from setting straight all the claims made by the aberrant and unhealthy man on the bed. William's fingers had recoiled away long before now, and at his sides, they were holding his belt, keeping a composed balance with his posture and with his words; they were neither harsh OR weak and wilting. They were purely genuine even if he still lacked confidence in himself. "I don't do anything that I don't want to, Captain." He bit that last part out. "I regret nothing." Again, just that crystal clear truth - straighten it out - make it impossible for Jack to conceive any other absurd rambling curiosities from what occurred. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Improbable, yes. Impossible? Never. Not for Jack Sparrow. Eyebrows rose in a moment of understanding and his lips parted slowly to offer a little "Ooh." He fell to silence for a moment, mostly just so that he could gather what small strength he had left for his next moment of talk. It would be important--dreadfully important--that he got his accusation across--to make the boy get a god damned clue--before he passed out. Captain Sparrow plainly refused to wake up in his bed alone in the morning. Whether this was the fever speaking, or just something he'd been meaning to get for a while was beyond him. He just knew he wanted it. And, honestly, who denied Jack of anything when they were prodded enough? Then he moved--one hand falling back to keep himself balanced while his other hand gestured in a wild way in front of him. He did a good job of acting like he was at full strength. His head tilted to the side again. "So what I get from this, William Turner, is that you wanted to have sex with me. No regrets there. But you want nothing to do with me beside that. You turned away from me, then. No regrets, Will." He used the man's shorter name on purpose. Jack used "William" with much affection. What better way to show you're angry than to omit said affection? He was being very unfair to the younger man, and he was more than aware of it, even with a half-foggy mind. 

**- - - William - - -:**      Aboard this vessel, as just another set of hands and valuable swordsman during a dispute, he had overheard the Captain leader state quite a few sexual things - but never, in complete, barren directness toward and about him. The intense anger seemed to falter, melting back for a shudder to coarse the slope of his back. Admittedly, thrilling, but equally as concerning. Jack had said nothing more than the truth that he believed, and while the first section of his statement was without error - the second part needed correction. Will did not realize how evident it was that his anger had faltered and vanished for a moment. He felt an intense urge to rectify - despite whether it had made Jack 'happier' or not - what Will did was take advantage of someone who needed care, not a complete abandonment into sexual appetite - Will had plainly rescued himself from hurting Jack anymore, rescued himself from making any more thought-less actions. He fisted an edge of the cover cocooned around Jack, to get his attention. "It has nothing to do with shame of wanting you - it's the shame of not being able to refuse it." And so much for rescuing himself from thoughtless action, he was nearly holding Jack in his grip again, nearly hovering, wrapped in that same confusion, same inability to stop. Stop. But he couldn't get away from Jack. 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      "You couldn't resist my sexual appeal." Assessed the weary Captain--who wasn't fairing too well on his side of the argument. His mind was too fuzzy to think up a new plan of action, and so it was difficult to go on. Damn his situation! "But you can resist -me-. No regrets." He was doing a lot of repeating on this night, it seemed. His body was tensed, not wanting to truly anger the grip on the blanket that he couldn't see, and hands that had been active were prone and immobile once again. It'd taken a lot to move like that; it was frustrating. He turned his head away from the direction in which Will was, damp and inky hair rustling over the blanket and rubbing against his neck making him shiver. Again, he was at the point where he couldn't decide if he was far too hot, or far too cold. Horrid sickness. Perhaps, the back of his mind whispered, it would just be easier to roll over and die. Bad thoughts that were very uncharacteristic of him. 

**- - - William - - -:**      When all the boiling disquiet in Will could no longer be curbed and his unchecked eruption was supposed to occur right now, with a shout of complete confession for the whole Spanish Main to listen to - it didn't. Instead - the four words that had been on the brink of his tongue, were now swallowed down to be spoken much more low, much more confidential. He sunk liquidly to the bed without disturbing it enough to jostle its other occupant; he was behind the swaying Sparrow and already maneuvering the man with the pressure of fingers that suggested he lay back. Lie back on to William. Succumb. Something Jack never did, surrendered. But in the right moment, with the right warm body, perhaps it was only improbable and not impossible. When the weight of Jack's relaxed head was in his lap, easily permitting access of calloused swordsman fingers to caress forehead - he finally found his voice, located so far down, it was no longer a part of himself, and yet, it was all of him there was left to reveal. Finally finding and shedding the four words. Without harshness, but still, with a helplessly morose rasp of frustration, head bowed forward - not in the shame that Jack might interpret it as, but in the relief of someone who knows he's doomed, and has accepted it. "I want you, Jack." 

**- - - Jack - - -:**      Jack's head tilted to the side, as if he was relishing the feel of the other mans' fingers against his forehead and hairline (usually hidden by a dirty red bandana) and silently urging for more touch. And not even in a sexual manner this time. There was no argument put out from Jack's mouth at this particular moment of surrender; instead, he stayed almost deathly silent. Mouth, however, moved from it's angry frown to being slightly upturned. Hardly more than a straight line, but even through blood and bruise, the slight smile was obvious. "Aye," he managed to whisper out--using his last bit of strength to maneuver his hand upward to awkwardly pat William's own with clammy feeling digits. "No regrets, William," and although he was repeating those same words over, he was speaking for -himself- this time. A man didn't work so damned hard to get something he wanted and then not show that the reward wasn't appreciated, after all. His hand dropped back down to his side then, fingers playing for a moment with the blanket around him before ceasing all their motion. Good. He'd gotten what he'd been seeking to gain for quite a while now--now he could relax some. Boy was a hard catch--but there was very little the Captain couldn't gain. He -was- Jack Sparrow, after all. 


	4. Day Three

Title: Of Blindness and Vision: Day Three (of three) BR Author: Frost AND Kacey BR Rating: NC-17 (sex thingamagigs..)BR Summary: Jack gets injured, and Will has to play nurse-maid. Or at least try. BR Disclaimer: Don't own it. But we do own this story. So take THAT. BR Archive: O_O Yes..! Tell us first, though. BR Authors notes: This is a response to the plot bunny illness challenge given by glitterundine@yahoo.com. It is affectionately called "Pity Jack Please Will". You'll see why. br Uh, anyway, this is actually a part of our "Of." series, which is ongoing and being spewed out in no particular order. Enjoy! BR Oh yeah. Jack is played by Frost, and Will by Kacey.P  
  
B- - - Day Three - - -:/B DD  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The first of the five senses that rouses from unconsciousness is sight, and if you don't have that - its auditory. Will had perfect vision, but when a white morning sun's glow finally registered through his resting lids, opening them only caused a wince, turning head fitfully to shield against the light's attack. There were no windows in the crew quarters, no searing flash of morning to greet him from his bunk on the lower levels of the ship - so why now had the sun found him? What cannon fire battle had taken place while he slept and punched a breech in the hull to let such glow in. But William Turner was not in his own bunk, and the pillow he had turned his face toward was not his common bit of cloth - for surely, a pillow would not hiss the softly even breaths of a sleeping form. Without sight, his sense of hearing was now awake and absorbing in the rustle of sheets not his own - after that, it was smell. And Will was starting to hazily put this together - his quarters did not smell like rum, spice and leather. Not his. But the Captain's cabin did. A cabin that just so happened to have a wide expanse of glass windowing on one wall, to let sun through. Next, touch. One of Will's hand instantly went to his own body, surprisingly noticing he still wore all of his clothes, each layer, nothing disturbed from him. His other arm was securely pinned under the familiar weight of a sinewy, feline sea dog of a pirate and shorter man than himself. It was time to try those eyes again. Will blurrily inspected his situation - remembering everything. He had fallen asleep in Jack's bed while tending the heat fever that had been stirred up after the bath. And Jack was still coiled into a cocoon of blankets, none of them removed - they weren't even facing each other, rather, Will was on his side, one arm curled under Jack, who was sprawled on his back. Perfect positions if the blacksmith had wanted to easily watch the bed companion doze - and possibly, he wanted just that, attempting to make no movement. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Sparrow, himself, seemed to still be asleep. After all, he had no sense of sight to allow the sun to wake him-- and beside that, the ill man had been far past over exhausted. This was much needed sleep on: his part. Mouth was parted ever so slightly, taking in soft and even breaths as his chest rose and fell. No, no snoring for this Captain. He was too deep into sleep for that--plus it was something he only did when drunk (and he'd be the first to admit it). One hand was positioned over his own waist, fingers curled upward in that unconscious sort of manner. His other arm was flung to the side--hand not even being balanced by the bed anymore. Maybe it had been good for Will that he was sick--Jack appeared to be possessive of the bed's space. And luckier on the part of the swordsman was the fact that Jack's high fever seemed to be at a much lesser degree today. Probably by the fact that the wily Captain had fallen asleep, and so had finally been -still- for hours at a time. Long and inky tendrils of hair both framed his face and blocked it from view. Some few locks had somehow gotten lost in their direction and ended up lying over the bridge of the Captains nose. Something he was probably used to, it seemed, as it didn't bother his sleeping any. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The younger's cheek lay motionlessly on the one pillow that Jack had not managed to snatch away during sleep. He faced the pirate, presented with a partially masked view of his profile, if it were not for the blindfold bandage and the occasional group of raven hair that had cascaded over Jack's expression of tranquil rest. Will deducted from the sedate, connectedly even flowing breath that his patient was enveloped in such a deeply consuming sleep, that if slender, lengthy olive fingers might go to intercept and banish those strands from Jack's face, it wouldn't stir him. Will thankfully did not have to worry over removing his arm from beneath the captain's to be able to gingerly curl his long free arm up, to hover briefly, savoring another lapse of peace - and then sliding back all the hair, returning it to the rest of it's ocean of ink mane. Instead of disengaging fingers to his side right away, they smoothed with slow enjoyment from Jack's temple, to ear, over the angle of jaw and over the lips, no longer swollen from Will's attack, but still stained by the residue of dried blood. Will caressed those lips; serenely open petals, with just the pad of one finger. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack's head tilted back, and lips parted open a bit further, very likely moistening the blacksmiths' lone finger there. All of this, though, was just unconscious response to Will's touch, it seemed, because the Captain's breathing didn't change at all, nor did the rise and fall of his chest. A small sigh was emitted from those parted lips, but it was the one only a sleeping person could muster--wistful and dreamy. At least it sounded content. Perhaps the Captain was dreaming of good things? Looting treasure (the un-cursed kind) on a secret island? Becoming the most well known and most fearsome of pirates in the world? Or perhaps, it was something as simple as the idea of waking up to a warm body next to him? That was a secret only the depths of his sleeping mind knew-- as he would very likely promptly forget what he'd been dreaming upon waking. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Indeed, with the movement of Jack's unconsciously approving sigh, an index's tip had been briefly caught by the warm, silkier part of Jack's lip, that part not chapped, like all good pirates' mouths - chapped by sea wind, sea sun, by rum, smoke, or even fervid lip locks when no other eye could witness. Lips that kept a secret. And Will knew, even from just the single incidence of it, what that softer part of Jack's mouth had to offer to another's greed to taste it. He drew back his hand, using it as leverage to start separating his own waist away from the side of Sparrows -- after all, it wouldn't do any good to be so painfully careful in not rousing the ill patient, just to allow Will's sudden and sharply straining erection to wake him with its pressure on his hip. Inexperienced in actually being with someone else in a bed, much less tangled with them, the Turner boy had to play it all by ear. Maybe if he swiveled his elbow out more flat, he could slip it out. It was his only plan, and inching free from that security of Jack's warm lengthy body, Will didn't account for the end of the bed to be so close behind him, Wow, Jack really had taken up all of the bed, and he slipped off to the hard wood floor, at least the blanket he had been twisted in slowed down his fall and he didn't land with a thump, more of an awkwardly quiet roll, until he lay on his back, with still the ankle of one leg caught in the sheet on the bed. He could never win. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD The tugging of the sheets -was- something that would rouse the sleeping Captain--however, only slightly. With a soft moan, the older of the men rolled over--arm moving to drape over the figure that should very well have still been on that bit of bed. To no avail it seemed, as his arm landed only on the mattress. The spot was still warm, however, and that seemed to keep the slowly waking pirate content for the moment. There was a long moment where it seemed like Jack would just drift back off into his peaceful sleep; but then, his lips moved downward into something of a frown. He had, after all, had a very nice goal last night. To wake up next to the warm body of the blacksmith William Turner. A simple, easy goal after he'd managed to persuade Will that that was exactly what -he'd- wanted, too. So where the hell had his prize gotten off to? He attempted to open his eyes--to search for the boy--and then was reminded in a slightly painful manner that that wasn't something he was able to do. With a little groan, and a curse, the Captain shifted in bed--moving up to a half sitting position by leaning on his elbow. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it would have last night. Sleep seemed to have done him some good. When he finally mustered up the will to speak, his voice was slow and muddled with sleep. "Will?" His senses weren't good enough yet to tell him if the boy was actually in the room--ears were just now registering the familiar sound of the ocean waves hitting the Pearls' hull. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Even Will's original intention had been only to separate a little, not entirely leave the occupancy of the bed - he might've actually somehow maneuvered to get back into Jack's tangle without having hips directed anywhere to give away that reaction to Sparrow's arousing kissable sigh of relaxation. Instead - the misfortunate found himself on the floor beside the bed for the second time in the last two days. It seemed he was doomed to this fate. The blanket knotting his ankle was tugged again as the leg was attempting to free. How could this all be worse? Jack was waking up - no, had woken up. It was a lucky break that the Captain was blind, for it would be just another embarrassment for Jack to prod him with. Will, very awkwardly rose to his feet, once it was possible, and cleared his throat, almost a little TOO huskily, watching Jack. "Still here, Jack." P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack tilted his head to the side---much like a curious puppy would--hair cascading down his shoulders with the movement. His mouth pursed, as if he were going to ask something, but then he never spoke. Instead, he shrugged--something that required great effort for one in his position--and then fell back into a lying position. Bronzed arms pulled the blankets back around him absently before greedily hugging the nearest pillow within his reach to his chest a head. The gesture in itself was almost child-like; and for some reason, that made a terrible lot of sense. Jack, for all his cleverness and sex appeal, was (self admittedly) terribly greedy--but never in a bad way. And playful to boot. Fingers wiggled, squishing the softness of the pillow, and one would note his breathing was slowing again--as if he'd made up his mind to just fall back asleep. "Come back to bed," he murmured out at the clumsy blacksmith. "Was much warmer with you here." Yeah, who could resist a comment like that? P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Much warmer, Will agreed silently. One glance cast toward the stove -- no accidental fires had escaped to set the Pearl ablaze - where the warmth was slowly drawing back again. But Will remembered now, despite not exactly registering any memories when he awoke, that there were no matches left in the stove box - and that someone would need to retrieve more from the galley if they were going to strike another fire. But perhaps, now that it was morning, with all last night's chills already passed by, one might only need another lengthy body against theirs to achieve that comforting temperature for rest. And maybe, Will could provide that, not even he could mess up a task so simple - or so he thought. Yet, before rejoining the center of the bed, he slid the curtains across that expanse of window, cloaking the room in red shadow - for Jack's curtains were red, and with the light passing though the heavy material, it infused the quarters with a scarlet hue. Will was already tiredly folding back onto the bed when he started to wonder if Jack had done that on purpose... P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack? Done something on purpose? -Never-. Maybe it had been Barbossa's doing! Either way, William's musings would soon be put to a halt as the extremely naked figure of Captain Jack Sparrow made itself very obvious; pressing himself up against Will's clothed form. He wiggled for a moment, as if trying to find a more comfortable position, and then decided that he was happy to have his own head resting against William's shoulder--ringed and devious digits wrapping around the blacksmiths waist and resting low on the small of the man's back. He purred- -yes, purred--happily for a moment before assuming a more normal breathing pattern--slow and mostly comfortable seeming. His legs were greedy, feeling the need to intertwine with the panted legs of William--seemingly just so that they could be stretched out fully and warm at the same time. Trust Jack to use even something as simple as a sleeping position to his own advantage. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD He had not sunken into place more than a heart's beat, before his own started to rapidly pick up tempo - Jack's arrangement of his arms and legs were fluidly sudden and with purpose, as well, they fell in place around him as natural and routine as breathing. Jack had found his place around William with a grace that only a man like him could manage in a bed, and not when he attempted to walk straight lines. But the naked, sharp tan knee that had been wedged between his taller legs, had brushed completely over the front of Will's trousers and he somehow restrained himself from jerking away, but rolled his head away from Jack quickly, to hiss a sharp breath through teeth. With the position of Jack's head on his shoulder, Will had one of his arms pinned against the bare torso, and fingers twitched unconsciously somewhere around Jack's navel. Calm. Calm. An inner mantra, repeated to himself. The fingers stopped twitching and Will's body untensed. Adapt. Not so bad. Once you calmed. Even nice. A silent, sleeping Jack meant a non-argumentative, non- stubborn one. And a sleeping Jack on top of him - well, Turner didn't quite know what that meant yet. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Head nuzzled into Will's shoulder, his hair somehow managing to get in the way again--hiding most of the Captain's face, and very likely tickling the bit of bare skin that the blacksmith did have by his collar bone. A sleepy sigh left lightly bruised (and slightly dried blood covered) lips; and Jack--who one could only assume was asleep-- managed to somehow press himself even closer to the taller man (mostly in reaction to the feeling of the fingers near his navel), hips pressing up against Will's lower stomach. One would be left to wonder if Jack was really awake and just teasing the poor blacksmith or if he really was sleeping--and his movements, though decidedly coy, were purely innocent. The latter seemed improbable--but it was not, by any means, impossible. His chest rose and fell slowly-touching Will's own chest for a moment before his breath drew back in. Repeat. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The tolerable weight of hips snug against Will's lower stomach was becoming intolerable with their provocative pressings. Mmm, maybe not intolerable, exactly. Will unconsciously flexed his feet into the mattress, and his own waist rolled invitingly. The body could be a traitor to the mind. The body did not know right from wrong, and had no conscience. But the new pirate did. So why wasn't it telling him to roll his neck away from the caressing breath fanning on it? Because he did want it, hadn't they been through this before? His hips had at least only rolled forward once, too shy to even accidentally do it again. Dexterous fingers sought something to take handle on, connecting and melting around the crook of tan elbow strewn across the center of his chest. Will's eyes, sometimes sharp and biting with focus in a battle, or in the makings of weapon, were apparently, in bed with another, hazy, crescents - droopy, and slow to understand this new experience. If he held this man in sleep, no harm could be done of it, Sparrow would not even know. The boy's head curled toward his bedmate's, long hair dripping over the pillow. No.. Jack wouldn't even know. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack stayed in that position, unmoving for what seemed like hours--soft breathing warming William's already clothed shoulder, and hands resting relaxedly on the small of the man's back. He -must- have been tired--because there were very few days in the history of the Pearl where Captain Jack hadn't been awake and hyperly rambling on while standing at the helm. Fingers would dance about the ships wheel and his eyes and teeth would glitter in the early mornings' sun. But just now, all he really wanted to do was sleep. There was very little else he wanted, actually. Only the prospect of food or sex would have woken him (Note the order in which the two were listed). Unfortunately for William however, Jack seemed to fidget even in his sleep eventually. He shifted yet again, turning in a way that should have been a roll-had Will not been there, that was--and ended up lying mostly on his face--one arm slipping free of Williams' grasp, and the other draping over Will's chest in a nearly possessive manner. "Mm," was the noise that was ejected from his mouth, obviously in a very unconscious manner. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD A small shady notion had come to Will's mind, to inch his face closer to Jack's, without the pressure of having the man know of it. To hover over the slow wisps of air his patient released in his lull, close enough, without fear, to just absorb and sample how Jack's nearness might soothe him, maybe even steal some of that bold Captain's confidence right into himself. He would need confidence if he were to ever be so near to Jack again when the man's haunting eyes might find his own. That had merely been a fleeting notion. Something thought of, and then played out in his mind for a second. Because Jack's mouth was already lost from sight, rolled and turned down to wedge between Will's shoulder at the envelope of sheets. Without the head upon his shoulder, he need only be concerned with the interlocking of legs and restraining arm around his torso. Turner couldn't succumb to rest, he needed to change clothes foremost, the edges of his trousers still subtly wet from the tub water. There would also be reporting to do to the crew - uncertain how concerned they were - having seen Jack through many hard times - always having witnessed the man pull through. The crew must not realize how severe the injury truly was this time. Hm. More medication? The best medication would be food. Will peeled Jack's fingers from his waist, turning toward the edge of the bed, SEEING where it was for once. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack didn't wake from the small bit of movement--and seemingly didn't notice when Will moved to get out of the bed. One arm stretched outward in the direction that his blacksmith--yes -his- blacksmith--had moved to, as if reaching for him (or maybe his warmth?) unconsciously. But that was about all, on the Captain's part. Face was still pressed downward on the bed--but that was no trouble for his eyes, his nose was taking all the 'damage'. His other hand had some how ended up underneath his stomach, and so he was lying on that. Captain Jack Sparrow slept oddly when he was exhausted, it seemed. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The bed dipped in a tilt as the collected weight of Will Turner sat on the edge of it. What kind of questioning might his appearance earn from the crew? What looks received from his subtly damp clothes, hair twisted into his eyes and most likely some remnant of blood, not his own, on his chin or edge of mouth. Will didn't want to check a mirror - though he was beyond positive that a man like Jack Sparrow would have an abundant amount of them in his cabin. Though, sluggishly lost fingers did locate his boots, and drawing them to his lap, he snapped a few inches of thin rope from the laces and used this to restrain hair into a knotted group at the nape of his neck. Did his face look as ashen as it felt, he touched it. And then the tilt was relieved, the lithely length figure upon the edge rising into the red saturated room. To any eye-less creature - only there followed the steps of feet without boots, some cloth being moved ( or kicked/nudged by toe) out of the way, and then that door. Faithful passage. It was drifted open for exit - and sealed again behind. Will was gone. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Any captain--blind or not-- that had been marooned once in the middle of the night knew instantly the sound of a door opening and closing. Jack stiffened in the bed, once relaxed fingers tensing--gripping at the blanket beneath him. Upon a moment more of silence, his senses finally came back to him. His crew was trustworthy. There were no other people he'd rather have his life in the hands of than Anamaria, Gibbs and Will. Especially Will. And speaking of the devil... Jack's head moved sharply in the direction that the younger man had been before (how long before, he wondered? It was hard to keep track of the hours without sight. Had it even -been- hours?). No longer was his blacksmith there--only what felt like a quickly cooling indentation; a memory of what had been there. Or maybe his mind was just waxing poetic? Either way, he seethed inwardly, angry with both himself and Turner--though not completely sure he had a reason to be angry. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The suspicious expressions had not nearly been as numerous as a paranoid, sexually pent up ( from personal sexual unsatisfaction?), tense blacksmith creature has expected. He responded when spoken too, but carried words no farther. Yes, he is improving. When? I do not know how long it will take. Somehow, stealthy steps had gotten him down to his bunk space before he had encountered anyone who might interrogate him. Now, in the galley, with fresh clothes, clean water having cleansed his skin of Jack Sparrow's presence, but still without any brightness in his step - not even the fresh air could give him that. He was currently distributing answers to Anamaria's inquires, while doing the duty of collecting some of the mass produced food for the lounging naked creature on the other side of the swaying boat, cutting through water with the speed unmatched by any other vessel. When the questions were all answered - don't forget, Will was no doctor - Pirates may have quite a know-how on treating sword wounds, gun wounds, shark bites - but Will was only sentenced to tending Jack for knowing more than others about severe degree burns. Victims of such injury would need nutrition - but Jack would have to settle for this seafood he now would get served directly to his bedroom. Will entered, expecting Jack to be asleep, and without looking to the bed, pushed the tray onto the desk. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD But said Pirate Captain was -not- asleep anymore. He was sitting placidly in the middle of the bed, legs crossed Indian style there--an almost childish position, it seemed. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but accusing and almost harsh at the same time. "I heard the door open 'nd close." It was a simple sentence, and Will would more than likely be bewildered over it--then again, he wasn't the vulnerable one who still feared the idea of being left alone on an island somewhere (then again, that wasn't something Jack would admit either). His fingers were playing over the bandage on his eyes. They tingled now that he was awake, and he knew it meant they were healing, but he still found it irritable. Instead of staying annoyed however, he fell silent, head tilting to the side--his nose catching a scent of the food. His stomach made a complaint of its' own, and his lips turned downward into a frown. It was probably just the fact that he was sick that left him in such a sour mood. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD There had been no silent lapse of time for Will to remember he forgot to get more matches - because, nearly as soon as the door had sealed behind him, Jack was consuming all attention again, with his marginally deranged statement of a man who might or might not be still asleep. But the position of the Commander, legs neatly folded under him, was one of consciousness. A calm, gathered consciousness. And Will might've just stood there picking out the dark spots of tan skin he could see through separations of the sheets twisted around Jack - if it had not been that bejeweled fingers were prodding over bandages. "Don't, Jack." The boy dared to take authority and smoothly took a tarnished silver flask from his belt, placing it beside the tray of food. Only to give it, when asked - and maybe only if the patient maintained that decent, subdued behavior he had been displaying. "Do you want to eat over there?" P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack let his hands sulkily move away from the bandages, flitting back down into his lap (after giving a not so polite gesture to Will to show his annoyance at being told what to do). Me made a show of attempting to rearrange the sheets and blankets around him, and then his lips twisted into a half smile--his teeth glittered; he was getting so much closer to that usual trademark smile of his. P "No, I think I've been in the bed long enough, don't you, Will?" Blankets were brushed to the side, and he moved--after cautiously feeling the edge of the bed (didn't want to fall off of it!)--to stand. It was obvious that because he was feeling better this morning that he was pushing it for himself. Recovery wasn't that fast--but he'd be damned if he didn't try to make it. He swayed on his feet, and then took a long moment to concentrate and steady his balance. He did not, however, ask for help. God save the Pirate Captain--it was almost obvious he wasn't quite sure in which direction he needed to be walking. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The slow knitting of straight brows added tired age to a young man, still in his first year of Piracy. It was a piqued exasperation that creased his brow and hardened the edges of his mouth as jaw strains and tightens. All right, Jack, have it your way. But maybe, even despite his feelings of vexation, Will honestly did respect and look up to the experienced pirate's effort to overcome, even if it was impatient and stupid to try and push recovery too fast - there was no way to deny that the blacksmith wasn't glad that the true, tenacious Jack Sparrow had not faded away with injury. The Captain of the Black Peal refused to take a fall, to roll over and die - there was no doubting the lengths that that man would go to survive. Will, with his exasperation still, folded into one of the desk's two seats, purposely sliding the chair's legs against the floor to make a noise. Maybe Jack would scold him for that kind of help, but the boy didn't care. He waited, and watched, conscious of all the things Jack might trip into on the way over here. But manages to keep his mouth shut. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack didn't bother with the disapproving frown in Wills' direction. After all, he now -had- the direction, and that wasn't such a bad thing, really. He slowly made his way toward the desk-- now that he was situated in the right direction--hands held somewhat outward, as if making sure he wouldn't walk into anything. But it wasn't -that- bad, if he didn't think about it too much. It was like... searching for a buried treasure! How many steps from here to get here, or there. Except without a map. Or vision. Ahem. Finally, and seemingly miraculously, he made it to the chair of the desk--that he -did- walk into, but made it look as if he had been going for that folly the whole time. P "Knew that," he said to Will, his head bouncing in a nod. Which hurt. So he made a mental note to never do it again. "So, William," he purred out, stiffly and cautiously sliding into the chair. "What's for breakfast?" Never mind the fact that he was still totally naked. Jack seemed comfortable, regarding that matter. Then again, when had Captain Jack Sparrow ever been shy about anything? P B- - - William - - -:/B DD The nude man would not see Will's look of bashful, self loathing, discomfort - but he would hear Will's throat clearing raspily and his voice turned away with the boy's position facing the desk and not the chair in which Jack sat. P "The usual." Stated simply. God, why should he be uncomfortable? Had he not only seen this man naked before, had also been on top of him, equally as in the buff? Yes yes, a night that seemed long ago. Nights held secrets. Yet during day, all those realities seeped in - and sometimes you wonder if your wet clothes had only been a figment of your imagination - maybe you had not straddled anyone in a tub? But Will could not convince himself that the memory was hazy like a dream - because his memory of that incident was very sharp, in every detail. And now, as he folded arms on the desk, leaning into it and searching the wall for solace, he could still see all of Jack in his mind, ALL, without having to eye the man right now. He traced intersecting lines with his finger on the grain of the wood desk. "I never finished checking the rest of your minor wounds last night after that bandage was taken off. I need to do that, but I'll wait until your done." His voice was one of a man who wanted peace. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack wasn't traditionally a man who let peace lay still, but for Will's sake (or perhaps because he'd decided somewhere in the back of his mind that he wanted William in his bed again in the near future), he let the boy's obvious discomfort go "unnoticed". Hands touched the desk, and then slid softly over it until the tray of food was found. Slender and diligent digits played over the rim of the plate until they were awarded a fork. He fiddled with it for only a moment before digging in. He moved slowly, so to not allow any mistakes, and scooped the food up. Chewing, he turned his head to the side to "face" Will. "If that's what you want to do," his answer was both meek and suggestive at the same time. One would probably wonder if that was even possible. Well. It was when Jack Sparrow had anything to do with it. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The intersecting patterns drawn by Will's finger had turned into that finger's nail picking absently at a dark knot in the wood. His droopy dark eyes lidded, guarded. A good swordsman was always on guard. A good swordsman knew never to show his weakness, never make a wrong step. But a good swordsman was no match for a good cheater. And Sparrow was that cheater - and Will, the one who's been defeated. Did Jack quite know that he had won already? Was that the reason he did not argue as adamantly with his 'doctor'? Did he pity Will for loosing, or did a man so accustomed to victory never feel remorse for anything? The chair screeched against the floor loud, but over with soon, Will was standing - his skin ablaze by that nearness of the man. But he would get over it swiftly enough, adapt. Its just what you did. Fingers weaved into the curtain, not pulling it back entirely, but only a wider slit, the room a little less glowy red, but still a comfortable dim. That child in him still making itself known in his voice. "Need anything else?" He could go get it. Will was your man. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack chewed at his food for a few minutes more--he'd forgotten what it was like to eat for a while there, and was now relishing the food in front of him like he hadn't eaten in days. Oh wait. He really hadn't. Head tilted to the side, inky tendrils of still dirty hair sliding over his shoulders and tickling the blades. "Yes. I need you to calm down," his tone was slightly accusatory. He wasn't goading William about his winnings, so he thought that it would be a rightly nice thing if he didn't act like Jack was. After all, the way Sparrow looked at it, William wanted him (or so he'd said so last night), so there was no reason to act so silly about things. It could be a win-win situation all around if Will would just stop being so damned stupid. He took a little breath--as if both breathing and eating at the same time was difficult, and then resumed eating. Fork scraped against the plate, and the noise was reassuring. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Features souring with light offense - melting quickly to impassive acceptance - Jack was right after all. Why overreact? He was too new to this. Far too inexperienced. Such a smart respectable apprentice for so long - always waiting, always wanting at least someone who was untouchable. First a noble girl, the passing sickness of that puppy love, and most recently, an un-posessable pirate and loyal lover of Lady Sea. It was difficult to just smoothly transition from a shy, but brash tempered boy to a mature wooer. Will was the real one with his hands out in front of him, feeling around for every step, for every corner. Will was the real blind one. And Jack was the doctor. It was quite stupid not to know this. A sigh barely hissed, boots moving around from the window to the desk, hovering, overseeing. It wouldn't be such a strange sight, the Captain and a crewmember joining in conversation over the desk, if it were not for Jack's nakedness. Will seemed to be plainly accepting of it now, even the heat under his own skin was all going to be okay. His low timbered voice, "Done. Anything else?" P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Eyebrows rose from beneath the neatly tied bandages and Jack's lips twisted into a short grin. Fingers, though, were slidding over the tray in front of him--finding the little flask there. That seemed to improve his mood greatly. "No," he decided in a very factual tone. "Not at all. Thank you." And he was a better person for not saying anything snide. He took a drink of the liquor then, enjoying the warmth and tingling of it as it slid down his throat. Maybe it would have done him some good to ask for a blanket, actually. Ah well, he'd be back in that bed soon enough, so he brushed that idea off. Fingers pushed the plate away from him, signifying that he was done with all he pleased to eat. Which hadn't been that much, but his stomach seemed to have shrunk since it hadn't been put to much use lately. Any more and he'd likely be sick. ...Sicker, that is. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Will was bound to more acutely notice the definition of Jack's ribs upon that inspection he had time reserved for very soon. Possibly now. That would suit him. Another duty performed and completed. Eyes track the plate, never surprised by Jack's willingness to nurse some rum for breakfast's dessert even if that actual breakfast was over passed. He swiveled back to the bed, found where his storage of salve had been put the night before. It wasn't much in supply, but he was more intent to make sure he hadn't missed any wounds with the potential to get worse, to infect - more intent to simply examine, and not just start caking on anymore of the medicine. If everything was alright, Jack's best curing agent would be time. The sharp knees of the taller figure sunk to the bed's edge, thumbing over the container of salve - waiting. The bed's surface, even just on his knees, was comforting and shoulders released some of their knots. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Another drink of rum was taken, and Jack resisted the urge to hum a tune. He was in a much better mood now that he felt better (than yesterday), had eaten and had a drink. The day was looking to be a good one. Minus.. looking. That soured his mood. Head swiveled (a little too sharply, a little too painfully) to the side--back toward the bed. "How long does it take to heal?" The question was simple, and he was impatient. He did not make a move to stand and go back to the bed for a session of prodding and poking. He wasn't -that- voluntary, after all. If Dear William wanted him over there, he'd more than definitely have to ask. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The salve vial was rolled between his fingers, some residue of the stuff lingering on the glass was now lubricating the pad of his thumb to a silver slickness. A bristly, but precisely thin lined goateed chin rises and questioning eyes narrow to the man. And in thought, Will licked his canine tooth and replied with regardful consideration. "Well. With your strength, it wont be very long." His palms opened up philosophically to the air in gesture, "Your health will increase more swiftly if you treat it right." Was there a twinge of admonition in that? It would fall on deaf ears, Jack would drink like a fish and probably force his body to over exertion without even realizing it might have an effect on recovery. P "I'll give you a more specific answer once you come over here and let me look." Almost apologetic. Will was trying to think of all the burns he had suffered - try and apply that experience to conjure up that better answer. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Admonition? Where? Jack didn't catch the tone. Or at least he pretended not to. "Sounds like an accord," he decided finally, discarding the flask of rum after one last drink. He pushed himself up from his seat--more slowly this time. It wouldn't do to make himself dizzy and forget where he was. The steps had been counted earlier, and so ten movements later, he found himself at the edge of the bed. Okay, so it'd been nine and a half, and he'd stumbled into the said bit of furniture. But he'd been close. He covered his flustered embarrassment with talk--which was what all good insane pirates did, really. "Sitting, standing or lying?" Sexual innuendo having to do with positioning? Unheard of! Silver and gold rings glittered in the dim light as he fidgeted-- nakedly--in front of the bed (And William). P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Attention was unfixed, traveling from Jack to the bed's open space, and returning to Jack once more, with a bit more linger. The sound of sheets sliding, and unfolding as Turner adjusted his position quite minimally, but achieving just the correct placements: he, kneeling on the edge, room for the patient in the center laying, sitting - what ever was required. The traitorous encroach of a flush licked over the olive skin of the boy's nose - yet eyes stay true to their calm, their focus - even the hint of a strange thrill. If Jack would distribute his sly comments, Will, always Sparrow's opponent in some type of match, would counter with his own shifty words, "Which ever you can handle." Dry and yet simultaneously slick, it even brought the tick of lips to tilt up in one corner - just a tick, fallen smooth and cool again. But his eyes revealed the silent spark of triumph, a spark he hadn't felt in a battle one on one with Jack Sparrow since before they knew each others name, both gliding blades together amongst lifted hay and thrill. "Don't want to take too much out of you." P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack absolutely, positively sputtered. The mixture of amusement and shock showed itself on his lips---the way they pulled together tightly for a moment, and then melted into a smile-- then back to that line again; as if he couldn't quite decide with emotion to settle on. It was both exciting and startling to hear the usually prude William talk like that. His penis agreed, twitching once before lying back down (luckily hidden by his hand positioning) in place. The Captain laughed, shaking his head--and then remembering that that was a no-no. "I can handle any of them," he seethed in a mock defensive tone. P "I can do all three in succession if you'd like," Oh, there was no better thing than sexual innuendo. Except for lying flat out with large boasts during said talk. Jack slid into a sitting position on the bed as he spoke though, fingers feeling cautiously for both the side and the sheets there. Didn't want to over or underestimate, as it were. He resisted the urge to let out some pirate talk then. I'll shiver -your- timbers, mate. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The playful cant of Turner's mouth tensed to a pensive caution, arch observation of the man moving to join the bed's comfortable middle expanse of mattress, quipping carefully and dark, like someone quite suspicious and worried about his own safety now. "Lets just start with one, shall we? I'm new." Of course, taken in an unsuggestive way, he was referring to the new duty of playing physician, surely not of that undeniable inexperience with sexual contortions, surely unknowing of the several a nimble, wordy devil like Jack could manage - not in this state of illness, but the again maybe not even that might hinder Sparrow - he'd take the pain to conquer a position.... Will squinted away his thoughts, had he actually been thinking that? It was difficult not to - the man you wanted, naked, sinking into the bed in front of you - wasn't that the way it was supposed to go? Focus. Where would an injury most likely have been inflicted? Jack's arms had gone up to shield his face - without luck - but still, there might be signs there. As well as his neck and chest, also areas close to the explosions main assault. "Mmm.." Thought. "Lie back for now, eh?" P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD "Oh, very well," Jack's lips twitched upward into a smile--this talk was a brightness in an otherwise pitch black world. Will himself was probably unaware of how much this silly banter improved his mood. He cautiously laid back-- moving slowly to avoid jarring his head any more than he already had for the day. Back of his head situated itself on a pillow, and the sheets were cool against his bare skin. He didn't enjoy being pawed over--not when it came to sickness or things of that sort--and so he hoped it would end soon enough. Perhaps he'd take another nap once it was finished. Or maybe seduce William. Or maybe both. Whatever seemed easiest to do, he supposed. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD A blind guess had been correct. There was a significant amount of access granted to Will by having the object of his attention uncoiled and stretched out onto it's back. All there was that needed to be done was straightforwardly lift fingers, move them to hover on that warm aura of air invisibly coating the complex and yet human flesh of Jack Sparrow before diving in for thorough analysis. Human. Yes, quite human, as Will now discovered, eyes sweeping with more attention over the crevices and makings of that skin - now that his mind was not completely reeling by the new sights - the boy was permitted to take a look at Jack in a much more curious way. The pads of those calloused digits did connect with the warmth at this point, a patch of deeply set russet skin just to the right of Jack's heart. There was either a shallow, healed wound from explosion debris - or the legacy of a scar. A gingerly pressing caress, head bowed to see closer, something Jack would be aware of when Turner spoke. "This from four days ago, Sparrow?" P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack's mouth turned slightly, lips moving downward into a curious frown. His own fingers trailed to where Will's were, trailing over the scar. "No, it's not." he said, as if finally remembering the thing that was even there. "It's just a scar. And a silly one at that." He said dismissively, not really seeing any importance in it. Long and slender digits dropped back down onto the side of the bed, tracing random shapes in the sheet with the tip of his index finger. He could see where this was going--the game of twenty questions seemed to be coming up-- except Jack probably wouldn't be getting a turn. Not that he didn't like attention...The back of his mind mused on this predicament for a moment, weighing out the good and bad. Captain Jack Sparrow played things close to the vest--a hard learned lesson, but one he would never forget. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Perhaps if the youth was a slightly sharper tack, he would've taken the dismissive hint and banished his curiosity - but it was not squelched, in fact it was more inflamed and William was already questing with charged intrigue, using eyes to ride Jack's skin, using fingers to follow in the wake of his glances. There was the mapped out life of an infamous, dangerous criminal pirate - here, within his literal reach. And weren't all children just teeming with curiosity, absorption of adventure? William the pirate was transported back into an earlier day of tiny childhood for himself, despite having a former dislike for the pirate race, moved by the epics in which they were chief roles. And now he might study the tale revolving around one of these fiends - so much was still unanswered in his mind - so much of Jack shadowed away. Was every mark something worthy of reciting? Or just the flaws of real mortality? Will didn't rightly care at the bleedin' moment. He found a noticeable track that rose to his fingers, a mark calling his attention on that flat plane of Jack's exposed abdomen. "Where did you get this one, Jack?" P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack tensed at the feel of those calloused blacksmith's fingers along the wicked scar. It wasn't large, by any means, but it was there, and that was enough. He took a breath, and it removed Will's fingers from the spot--if only for a short instant. It would probably be best to just answer the boy. Then he'd go on with his life and not pester Jack with questions every time they were naked together (which was something that Jack foresaw happening quite often). Tilting his head back further on his on his pillow in attempt at more comfort, he let out a noise of contempt (scowl aiding his annoyed sound). "Barbossa," he finally admitted. That was all he said--after all, he never rewarded anyone with information with so little questioning. He'd never told anyone of the marooning, really. Sure, his crew -knew- about it, but they didn't really know what went on during. And it wasn't something he liked talking about, either. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Fascination. Will didn't even seem to be aware of how he had sunken lower still, flexible spine curling without strain on young back. One palm had flattened its self and rest open at the center of Jack's chest, not leaning, only as though he were holding down a paper that might fly away with the ease of a wind to pick it up. Will was a Navigator for this brief lapse of time. And while the freely roaming hand, extended etching finger, was seeking a new focal point of questioning - he still remained on the topic of the last. P "During the mutiny?" Imaginative mind churning out scenes - Jack battling on the deck of his own boat, no other person at his aid, facing a good lot of turncoats and no where to escape. Will saw that Jack battle - but could still not see the man loosing. Surely it must've have really happened, or else, he wouldn't have been sentenced to the island, where he was spared a heavy curse. Such a luck turn of tide, and yet what inner scars lacerate Jack beneath skin? A deep concept for even Will, a cool shiver rides his blood, a shiver felt through his hands reading the story book of Jack. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Pirate Captain of the Black Pearl did not want pity. He refused it. And so he spoke with an easy tone; light and confident. "Aye, William. During the mutiny." There was a slight pause and his lips turned downward again. "Most the shallow scrapes and cuts didn't scar," he admitted then, sounding truly grateful--it would have been a lot of scars otherwise--"But that one, made by Barbossa himself didn't seem t'like the idea of stopping bleeding." And then, there was the sickening image of the pirate washed up on the shore of a deserted island, bruised, bloody and still bleeding from various wounds and left with nothing but a gun with one bloody bullet in it. The rum he'd found to drink there was probably the only thing that kept him from shooting himself. He'd have gotten himself so bloody drink, he couldn't rightly use his fingers correctly enough to pull the trigger. And it wasn't for a lack of trying, either. But that was something he would never admit. Not even to William Turner. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD A muffled sick pang threaded through Will's chest. The confession wasn't as welcome to his ears as he might've hoped, Jack's truths held a grim undertone beneath that 'light and confidence' facade. Unconsciously, the previously immobile hand had drawn back to the track, learning the unburied memory, positive the one true magnitude of this reminder would never be known to him, never be known to anyone except Sparrow himself. Will registered the new placement of his hand and recoiled back, a mixture of guilt and newly roused eagerness to uncover another rock on the surface of the untamable foe. Despite that ever present reality of the Captain's nudity, the youth was surpassing it, and possibly even prompted by it, to now scrape brave digit for the dip between Jack's hip and the beginning of his thigh. Very cleverly suspecting a wound to be, riding the length of the leg to a T shape scoring, above the man's knee. Turner thumbed the upside T, near enough to inhale the thick scent of a sleep rustled Sparrow. "I have one like this too, Jack. Old or new?" P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack laughed then, and it was genuine. His arms snaked up to rest behind his head--absently brushing the hair away from his face before resting back down again. "That's old." He tilted his head to one side, and then to the other in some semblance of a head shaking. "Really old." He seemed amused--almost glad to be telling the story of the little scar above his knee. P "Must 'ave been... thirteen or fourteen," he decided, trying to remember an exact age. "Sword practice and play." Gold teeth glittered in the reddish light before his mouth closed again. "Wasn't always as prefect as I am now," he admitted haughtily, "Was rash, and more than enjoyed fighting-- that particular fight wasn't much of a win, though." It hadn't been a loss either, the back of his mind told him. He'd learned a valuable swordplay lesson to always keep his feet on the move. No better way to learn that than to be limping around for a whole week. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD If Jack had intended for these interrogations to end soon, he surely didn't know that his willing forfeit of information adjoined with that easy mirth of his was encouraging the boy for more rounds of their show and tell. Will, seemingly eager to capture and keep that newly unearthed flicker of Jack's history into himself, was already skating to new and richer places, his fingers like ships on the ocean, scaling the Pirate Captain in search of treasure. Not all were silver and gold, luv - he'd heard once. And in this case, some treasure is T shaped and come with a fond picture of a shining youth. Perhaps he and Jack had earned their t scars in the same manner of swordplay, perhaps the same misstepped folly - more alike then two pirates would guess. There was a newly returned safety to explore that banished the guilt he had felt over the last uncovered secret. Drawn back up higher, toward the comfortably lounging upper part of his captain, William inspected the inside stretch of Jack's arms pillowed beneath the man's head. There was of course ink markings to be found amongst these spots, Will had even spotted a curious permanently blistered branding above the Captain wrist once. A P. He knew of the East Indian trading company using these marks to warn others of who they were dealing with - but Will wasn't sure if he wanted to ask about how getting branded felt. And his eyes were led, innocently enough, down that slope of Jack's bicep, to shoulder... to throat. And Turner was suddenly much closer than he had been before. The back of his knuckle sliding a tendril of hair from view. A scar, no, a seared collar, that had always been hidden. The craftsman bit his tongue once, breathily. "What's..." P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack's mouth turned from a smile to a straight line in almost record time. His head moved to the side, hair covering up the slightly paler line of flesh that Will must have seen there. It didn't take sight to know which scar he'd spotted. Blacksmith's soft breath was at the base of his neck, making his collarbone warm. He wasn't so sure he wanted to answer this questioning. It wasn't something he liked to think on. Then again, it was a scar, so that was to be expected. The pale line of flesh went almost all the way around his neck--though it was a lot less noticeable in front. Years of being out in the sun made it diminish greatly. The back and sides though were often covered with hair, and still stood out when one was looking close enough. Not many people looked that closely, though. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, truthfully. P "William," came an almost warning tone--though he wasn't sure as to why he'd said it. He'd given permission for the questioning by answering earlier ones. There was no way that Will would have known when to ask (or refrain from, as it were). But then he sighed and moved a hand to brush some of his hair to the side--beads and baubles clacked together in a much too cheerful way. He tilted his head away from William, to show him more of the expanse of the scarring. Indeed, it -did- go all the way around. "What does it look like?" There was no way that Will would get this from Jack without doing a little work on his own, first. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD And Will's fingers, thirsty to know, then descended for his physical evaluation. It was obvious, the width of the ashen mark just right for frayed roping, the brutal angle in which it jeered up to the nape of the neck. Just a ghastly pale echo of deep cuts standing out against the sienna tan skin like an intruder, deep cuts lacerated by a yank, judged by gravity, taken down. Will laced the ring, faintly sure he felt Jack's pulse beneath his fingers - but how could that be? That gruesome angle was perfectly aligned...for snapping a man's neck in half. Jack's neck. This was not recent, this was not something Will failed to notice after rescuing Jack from the noose last time - there was only one glaring, stabbing excuse for this - and with the realization, Will's words tumbled from a tongue loose with horror, "You were hanged before." A pain constricted the boy's throat, a pain that wished he could see Jack's eyes right now instead of lifeless cloth - the desire to see that never-failing survival in coal eyes. He would settle for the pulse, in which his fingers traveled on the column of tan throat and his scant low breath fanned in expectation. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD A small noise--something unknown mixed with pain of remembrance--was emitted from the Pirate Captain's throat. But he caught himself, and so, with an even intake of breath, Jack's head moved forward on that pillow--a nod. "Aye," came his response. His neck felt tingly--that spot where the scar was unconsciously made itself known. No, it didn't hurt anymore. This was a scar years old. Jack just -remembered- the hurt--and the fear. "I was hanged before." So what--that made a total of two times? Yes. Each time he'd prevailed. He'd lived to tell the tales. But still, it was a horrible thing--having to pretend you weren't scared. All smiles and charming flitting of tied fingers as a rough rope was placed around his neck, just waiting to claim his life. Not pleasant. Not in the least. This was the stuff that Jack Sparrow's nightmares were made of, mostly. Standing, waiting. The rope was placed in it's spot and then a steady drum beat was rolled. One, two, three and then -SNAP!-. P "Life really does flash before yer eyes, William," Jack's voice sounded bitter, and just a tad pained. And somehow, it isn't comforting that they let people watch, hundred of people gathered around a block of wood, just waiting for the man to hang. To flail and kill himself with his own weight. His head moved again, covering that dreadful scar up with his hair. "But it's nothing big," he went on, trying to recover. "I'm not dead, after all." P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD There are always children in those crowds that gather. Set aloft their parents shoulders, propped up onto railways, or even shoved up to the lip of that high, display stage, all doomed to wear the gapes of wide eyed horror, a numbing horror. That numbing horror has stricken William Turner. While Jack unfolds this tale, Will feels as though just a child in that crowd, helpless, repulsed - merely witnessing from afar as a human is shattered, playing the scene in his mind's eye. Jack. On that platform, sentenced to die alone. But this time, in this new scene, Will doesn't throw the blade soon enough, it doesn't intercept a (pirate and a) good man's feet, it doesn't lend him balance in which it break the fall, it doesn't save him. A short drop. And a sudden stop. Will imagines the victim's body weight sharply resisting the length of the noose, producing a sickening sound of tightening, straining rope and the groan of a wooden board high above where the rope is tethered. Jack had seen this actual fate, Jack had taken that dive - when no one had come to stop his death - without being rescued before the noose was already carving through his throat. Will had not been there to save him, that first time. Will would never not be there again. He was smoothly efficient in swiveling Jack's chin back to the side, a directly maneuvering caress to the left, and the neck was at his access again, with just dark rain falls of hair streaking the shadows under Jack's defined and rakish jaw. Will had no hands in which to rid them, and did so with his nose. A puff of breath and when he drew another, it was filled with an intoxicating essence of Jack Sparrow that soared straight to the boy's brain, more potent than rum, and much more lethal - Will. Addicted. The neck that should have been snapped - kissed instead. Wanting mouth - tasting with a single, open, moist pressure. A single dip of tongue so innocently to know the texture of mark, the history. And with that - all Will's movement stopped. With his one pained mewl into the kiss. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Bronzed body tensed for only a moment at the feel of those hot lips pressed against the ghastly scarring. It was so Will, the back of his mind almost laughed. But at the same time it was comforting; it was a turn on, too, of course but a seemingly secondary one. If that made any sense. His body melted back down into a posture of relaxation--head tilting back a little further to show all the stretched expanse of his neck--and jeweled hand moving cautiously to touch William's cheek. It was an awkward moment as fingers brushed over his face to find it, but nothing bad enough to disrupt the scene. Nails brushed softly against the subtle cheekbone of the blacksmith and then curved around his jaw to cup the cheek. Hand did not direct the other boys mouth toward his own. William's soft lips were fine where they were, and he was in no real position to complain. His own lips parted, and he let out a small breath-- had he been holding that? Swallowing made the pressure of the boy's lips more firm against his neck for a moment; Jack's other jeweled hand moved up to rest on the top of his head, and it seemed almost like a comforting gesture. He didn't know why, nor did he care to think on it. Instead, he spoke, and although his words were sharp and almost rough, his voice was not. P "I need no pity from you, William Turner. Don't mistake me for a weak man. I didn't die that day..." The last line was... awkward. "I just came very close to it." It wouldn't be known if he was speaking of his actual life, or his resolve. But it didn't matter; he still had a great deal of both now. Those words had been spoken in a mere whisper. For William only. No other ears needed to hear this; ever. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Will was not so simpleton to think that this volley of his warmth could compensate for all that was taken from Jack during freefalling moments and lethally jarring seconds. What was it to die? What was it to know death so personally? To look into the cavern of death's jaws, and somehow, turn around and skip out? These were questions Will would pose for Jack another day. What was it to be Jack Sparrow, if not in chains, in cells, in shackles - a man walking planks, stranded and fitted for two hangings? It was not easy to interpret a man like the Captain, never knowing if he was revealing fear, or merely waiting for the opportune moment to turn the tables, strike fear into his oppressor, rise from victim, to power. Will couldn't uncode Jack now, but intuitively decides that the words were not scathing, the murmur in which they were spoken was one to reassure Will, to confirm, to rest aside his doubt that life had been lessened in the man he coveted. Reluctant to disengage, the lips were drawn up, breath held, subtle friction of mustache against the scar's peak behind Jack's ear, a place easy to get to, because Will still gingerly applied pressure to the fingers that were keeping a double braided chin from turning back toward him. A kiss soothed where bristle had scraped, and a purr rose up, as fine and silky as steam, from the lanky boy creature who had been moved so severely by the depiction of Jack's near termination, that he could only think to seal the wound with himself. Yes, Jack was alive. Here. And without explanation, but sure, Jack would understand, the purr was words. "To live for now." P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD A strangled noise left Jack's throat; a sound mixed between pleasure and relief. What had the pirate captain though Will would do in reaction to that scar? Not even he knew--but he decided that this was the best reaction he'd ever get (or gotten as of yet). Hands applied more pressure on the back of Will's head--slender digits playing through the thick curls there. Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to just hold the boy, let him hold -him- or forget about the wound search thing and just jump Will's bones there. (If Jack could handle it, that was.) "Will," he murmured out softly, just speaking so to fill in empty space. With no sight, it was hard to fully -focus- on life, and sound was something them helped him stay connected. Turner himself was far too quiet on occasions. Probably had to do with the fact that the boy had been an orphaned and only child. Jack would fix that little problem with him eventually, or at least the back of his mind made a note to resolve to. His leg moved slowly, bending at the knee--small T scar becoming shadowed and mostly unnoticeable; darkly tanned foot hid itself under the sheets absently. He made no move to rearrange his head and actually -kiss- the man leaning over him; but mostly only because he didn't trust himself to do it correctly. And over or under aiming a kiss was a mortal sin. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD The delicate region behind Jack's ear held new flavor to a morose tongue crawl. Here, behind this tan shell, a kiss tasted of Jack's wisp of moan, the sound produced by Will's exploration of the scar lace domain. Trusting his patient not to swivel head away from that total access, the spidery digits of Will's hand on Jack's chin, moved, gliding with purpose to the other side of the man's bare shoulder, thus propping himself up and shifting the center of his balance directly over Jack, only that upper part of his body, his lower half situated down the length of Sparrow's side. More fingers unoccupied with balancing him above, were collected up the back of tan neck, rising and dipping over the abutment of the frayed rope laceration and tested themselves with finding a place to slip into raven black interwoven mane. Also, those fingers slightly lifted the neck, an arch, supported by their strength, which now rolled Jack's head back more, opening that expanse of sun heated skin at the sensitive front of throat - here, a new inspection ensued, Will nuzzled the scratchy thatch of brush under Jack's chin, found a spot of skin beneath it and grazed teeth over adam's apple, canine tooth the most scratching. "This won't happen again. My place is here." In Will language: I'll be there. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD "I know." Jack's response was only half audible, and mostly just a sigh. It was hard to concentrate when Will touched him. Harder yet when it was his mouth--soft and subtle lips mixed with teeth and tongue scraping over his neck teasingly. It felt good, being half held up by the strong hands of his blacksmith. Something he imagined he'd never truly know or enjoy--being held. Being the one in the relationship with less control. But it was slightly comforting. It showed that William cared, anyway. Another thing he hadn't been expecting. Jack had been watching Will for a long time. He liked the boy, yes, but had never been expecting more than one or two times in the bed. But he should have known better. This was -William-, after all. The blacksmith didn't do things in halves, it was all or nothing. So why was the Pirate Captain so surprised at this whole ordeal? Because he'd never been loved before. Not really. Lusted after? Surely. Hell, more often than he could keep track of. It was something new and exciting, Jack decided. So why was he nervous at Will's last words? Slender fingers tightened in Will's hair and on his cheek before hands slid down to just -hold- the man above him. Arms wrapped around the shoulders there, and he just held on. He was nervous because Will was a pirate too. Meaningful admittance of faithfulness (or love, as it were) would not keep William himself from standing next to him on the wooden stage for hanging. And then what? Jack Sparrow would be responsible for not only his -own- death, but for the death of a good man, as well. That was a hard image to live with, and so he tried his hardest to banish it from his mind. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD To bottle all the stars into one jar was to love a pirate. To tame the ocean's current was to love a pirate. To conquer the Earth was to love a pirate. Impossible. Wild things that you could not claim, could not master - the sky, the ocean, the earth, and a pirate. You could not lock these forces down, cage, or overcome them. They were all too natural, too inherently free for any one individual to claim as their own. There is too much to try and take, no inhuman strength could even pin them down. But Will didn't want to pin. Capture. Lock and cage. He wanted none of this. For, yes, he only did want to love. Not impossible in the least. Anyone could love the sky, the ocean, the earth or a pirate. Worship them. Simply weave their existence into that love, that care. To want a pirate. To love a pirate. But never to try and keep a pirate from being free. William would never ask for that. He wouldn't ask for Jack's whole, eternal heart until death did shake him of it. You can not stop the world from revolving - and you could not stop a pirate from sailing. So Turner only asked, with his nips, murmurs and pressings, to just love Jack, to give himself to that man, that free natural force, that Sparrow, and ask for nothing back, no vows of devotion, no pleas to be loyal to him alone. To have him once, was to have a wish granted. Twice - thrice - and every day after - that would depend on Jack's willingness to let the boy give. As he gave now, swinging knees out over either side of Jack's waist, but lifted off of him, Will only leaning slight back against the naked, lifted up knee. Mouthing haggard puffs into scarred neck, without realizing he had done it, drawing blood to a spot visible beneath the skin at the base of the throat. To die, and live again - was to love a pirate. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD This pirate wasn't complaining at all. Will's silent language set him at ease and excited him both at the same time. Knee pulled up more to help balance Will's body and back; his hands fell free of the blacksmiths' shoulders, slightly dirty fingers making their way down his arms before moving to his chest. Very clothed. Very proper. Well, that was Will for you. No complaints--yet. He attempted to clear his throat (which was outwardly tingling and burning. But in a good way), to speak and say he understood what the younger, taller man was trying to say. But his mouth closed again--changing his mind. Maybe now was not a time to speak (Turner had a clue on this one already, after all). Instead, he lifted his head from Will's strong hands and sought to find the lips that were still on his neck. Enough about the scar William, pay attention to my lips now! That there was -his- body language. A demand, as usual, but he was Captain Jack Sparrow--and it was something Will would very likely have expected anyway. Fingers gripped at the cloth on Will's waist, getting a good hand hold in his grasps. P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Will's total access to Jack's throat is jarred away by movement, lips lingering briefly in reluctance to be separated, but the lift of head disrupted his angle, forcing his own to comply. Tendrils of Will's hair shaken loose, and the longest bits drift to places along the lower petal of Sparrow's lip, taunting innocently, they did. While Will's bursts of oxygen intake feathered the loose strands ever more, a curl sneaking over a tan cheek, heated brow, or down Jack's boyishly straight and perk slope of nose. Will's own graced it now, but lips did not meet and meld for that true, singular connection - the universal second - where only you and one other existed. Will didn't meet his fate yet - because the seeking plea on Jack's mouth was all too fascinating, something to savor. Unbelievable. It was reaching for him, greedy for him - risking for him. And the boy wanted to remember, his fingers still support Jack's head, sifted into the woven and clacking ornamented mass, and the rest of the digits dripped down over those open lips beneath his, spreading, soothing over the wind chapped surface, the sharp impish corners, even in, to the core, to wet the tips and coarse the row of teeth, gold and cream. And when he spoke, with only gingerly stroking finger standing between them and their kiss, their knowledge of each other undivided attention, it was warm breath, and filled the other man's senses with its close proximity. "Jack." P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack resisted the urge to answer in a question of 'what?' had he eyesight he would have. Because cracking an eye open and smiling in a sultry sort of way when saying "what?" was sexy and appealing. When being blind and having your eyes covered, well, it wasn't. Already parted lips nipped softly and licked at the digits placed before him, however. Wantingly; needingly. Hands tightened their grips on William's shirt and Jack let out a soft noise--pleading and demanding more attention from either fingers or soft seeming mouth. He was fully conscious of his decisions on this day, as opposed to the night before. Mind was mostly clear, and more than able to make the right choices for itself. And so choose he did--William. The boy on top of him was what he wanted at the moment. He'd have it no other way. And he was mostly sure that Will felt exactly the same (and somehow, that made quite the difference in his mind). P  
  
B- - - William - - -:/B DD Foreheads connect in subtly, non painful collision. Will was smooth, Will was in control - for now. And there was a priority in his mind to award Jack with every affectionate appreciation the boy could conjure up - not hurt Jack again. So the weight of brows cuddled together didn't irritate wounds, Will was simply rolling with a sweet drunk inebriation from Jack, Jack under him, around him, anchoring a shy boy above him with grimy fingers lost in cloth, Jack permeated his skin, got beneath it. The sounds, the devastating plaintive cries to be satisfied - Jack's noises broke Will apart - irreparable. The youth would never get back those shreds of his heart that were being marked by each greedy whimper - perfect, purring, and ready. Sharp knees wavered, pressing down into the leg between his, even briefly lowering to Jack's own hips, only one layer of cloth, and he could feel combined heat, and likewise rigid straining. "J-" Cut short for two shaky pants of air, that mingled with Jack's breathing. There was no way to hold back, a flood gate opened. The pressure on touching foreheads increased, neck angle liquidly changing to get closer, and Will initiated that crush of mouths, hands scooping beneath his patient, finding crevices of muscle to grip for safety, a kiss of abandon. P  
  
B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Exactly what he'd wanted. More than he'd hoped for. Jack's own semi-bruised lips pressed in further against those giving lips. Opening just a tad more, hot breath and wet lips and tongue meeting William's own. Bejeweled fingers lost their grip on the taller mans' shirt, and instead slid downward a few inches to grip at the hips that were so cleverly placed over his own. His lifted knee shifted to the side, allowing more room for said Blacksmith. An invitation, of sorts. The most that Will would get from his own Captain, anyhow. Jaw tilted upward so that the kiss would be more comfortable for the both of them--seemed to him that it'd be a long connection of mouths. Which was more than fine by him. P 


End file.
